Leslie Coulson

(1889 - 1916 / England)

The Rainbow - Poem by Leslie Coulson

Watch the white dawn gleam,
To the thunder of hidden guns.
I hear the hot shells scream
Through skies as sweet as a dream
Where the silver dawn-break runs.
And stabbing of light
Scorches the virginal white.
But I feel in my being the old, high, sanctified thrill,
And I thank the gods that the dawn is beautiful still.

From death that hurtles by
I crouch in the trench day-long,
But up to a cloudless sky
From the ground where our dead men lie
A brown lark soars in song.
Through the tortured air,
Rent by the shrapnel's flare,
Over the troubleless dead he carols his fill,
And I thank the gods that the birds are beautiful still.

Where the parapet is low
And level with the eye
Poppies and cornflowers glow
And the corn sways to and fro
In a pattern against the sky.
The gold stalks hide
Bodies of men who died
Charging at dawn through the dew to be killed or to kill.
I thank the gods that the flowers are beautiful still.

When night falls dark we creep
In silence to our dead.
We dig a few feet deep
And leave them there to sleep -
But blood at night is red,
Yea, even at night,
And a dead man's face is white.
And I dry my hands, that are also trained to kill,
And I look at the stars - for the stars are beautiful still.

Comments about The Rainbow by Leslie Coulson

  • Susan Williams (12/9/2015 12:20:00 AM)

    May we not have nightmares of these deaths but instead remember their time on earth with thankfulness (Report) Reply

    13 person liked.
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  • (5/1/2008 7:29:00 PM)

    Unbeliebable! This must be one of the most beautiful poems of war and peace I've ever read! (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: beautiful, silver, sky, rainbow, silence, night, song, red, dream, sleep, dark, death, light, star, thanks, running, flower

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004

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