Humbert Wolfe Poems

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Green Candles

'There's someone at the door,' said gold candlestick:
'Let her in quick, let her in quick!'
'There is a small hand groping at the handle.
Why don't you turn it?' asked green candle.

Requiem: The Soldier

Down some cold field in a world outspoken
the young men are walking together, slim and tall,

The Grey Squirrel

Like a small grey
sits the squirrel.
He is not

Excerpts From

THE children play
at hide and seek
about the monument
to Speke.

A Thrush In The Trenches

Suddenly he sang across the trenches,
vivid in the fleeting hush
as a star-shell through the smashed black branches,
a more than English thrush.

Epigram: British Journalist

You cannot hope to bribe or twist
(thank God!) the British journalist.
But, seeing what the man will do
unbribed, there's no occasion to.

The Thought

I will not write a poem for you,
because a poem, even the loveliest,
can only do what words can do -
stir the air, and dwindle, and be at rest.

Give me the wings

Give me the wings, magician! So their tune
Mix with the silver trumpets of the Moon,
And, beyond music mounting, clean outrun

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