The theme for this month's poetry
is
Remembrance
He was wounded and he fell in the midst of hoarse shouting.
The tide passed, and the waves came and whispered about his ankles.
Far off he heard a cock crow -- children laughing,
Rising at dawn to greet the storm of petals
Shaken from apple-boughs; he heard them cry,
And turned again to find the breast of her,
And sank confusèd with a little sigh...
Thereafter water running, and a voice
That seemed to stir and flutter through the trenches
And set dead lips to talking...
Wreckage was mingled with the storm of petals...
He felt her near him, and the weight dropped off --
Suddenly...
Remembrance
Fallen
by
Alice Corbin
He was wounded and he fell in the midst of hoarse shouting.
The tide passed, and the waves came and whispered about his ankles.
Far off he heard a cock crow -- children laughing,
Rising at dawn to greet the storm of petals
Shaken from apple-boughs; he heard them cry,
And turned again to find the breast of her,
And sank confusèd with a little sigh...
Thereafter water running, and a voice
That seemed to stir and flutter through the trenches
And set dead lips to talking...
Wreckage was mingled with the storm of petals...
He felt her near him, and the weight dropped off --
Suddenly...
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