No More - Poem by Steven Cooke
(To the unknown boys killed in the the First World War)
No more will he look into the eyes of his Mother,
No more will he see his Brothers smile,
No more will he feel love.
No more will he fish, and climb the trees of England
Or marvel at the voice of the nightingale.
For he is Sixteen and a Man,
He has done is duty by his Country,
Taken the shrapnel, which exploded over him
Like a Bright light sent from an avenging God.
He sees the dark approaching
But he can take it, for he is an Englishman
No more will he hear the whistle to advance
No more the frost and Snow
No more the fear of being killed
For I am no More
Remember me Mother
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