Robert Graves

(1895 - 1985 / London / England)

The Last Post - Poem by Robert Graves

The bugler sent a call of high romance—
“Lights out! Lights out!” to the deserted square.
On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer,
“God, if it’s this for me next time in France…
O spare the phantom bugle as I lie
Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns,
Dead in a row with the other broken ones
Lying so stiff and still under the sky,
Jolly young Fusiliers too good to die.”


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Read poems about / on: romance, sky, god, time



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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