War Poetry written in 1917 became rather more sceptical of the war
Returning, We Hear the Larks
By Isaac Rosenberg
Sombre the night is:
And, though we have our lives, we know
What sinister threat lurks there.
Dragging these anguished limbs, we only know
This poison-blasted track opens on our camp—
On a little safe sleep.
But hark! Joy—joy—strange joy.
Lo! Heights of night ringing with unseen larks:
Music showering on our upturned listening faces.
Death could drop from the dark
As easily as song—
But song only dropped,
Like a blind man's dreams on the sand
By dangerous tides;
Like a girl's dark hair, for she dreams no ruin lies there,
Or her kisses where a serpent hides.
Isaac Rosenberg was an English poet and writer. His WW1 Poems from the Trenches are considered to be some of the most outstanding poems of the war period. In 1916 he was sent with his battalion, The King's Own Lancaster Regiment to the Western Front.
He was killed on 1 April 1918.
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I am always learning more about WW1 and wondering why..... here is a poem that certainly reflects what it must have been like just "waiting" in the trenches for the next push - whatever side you were on.
ReplyDeleteThanks Josie.
Thanks, Susan. I was struck by the deeper meaning in this poem. It's one that I haven't come across before. How they must all have wished for " a little safe sleep" ...
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