Here is this patchwork quilt I’ve… Of patterned silks and old brocade… Small faded rags in memory rich Sewn each to each with feather sti… But if you stare aghast perhaps
Why have such scores of lovely, gi… Married impossible men? Simple self—sacrifice may be ruled… And missionary endeavour, nine tim… Repeat “impossible men”: not merel…
Four collier lads from Ebbw Vale Took shelter from a shower of hail… And there beneath a spreading tree Attuned their mouths to harmony. With smiling joy on every face
Most venerable and learned sir, Tall and true Philosopher, These rings of smoke you blow all… With such deep thought, what sense… Small friend, with prayer and medi…
Children born of fairy stock Never need for shirt or frock, Never want for food or fire, Always get their hearts desire: Jingle pockets full of gold,
I, an ambassador of Otherwhere To the unfederated states of Here… Enjoy (as the phrase is) Extra—territorial privileges. With heres and theres I seldom co…
…but I was dead, an hour or more. I woke when I’d already passed th… That Cerberus guards, and half—wa… To Lethe, as an old Greek signpos… Above me, on my stretcher swinging…
I’ve watched the Seasons passing… In the fields between La Bassée a… Primroses and the first warm day o… Red poppy floods of June, August, and yellowing Autumn, so
The butterfly, the cabbage white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the art of flying straight, Yet has —who knows so well as I?…
So far from praising he blasphemes Who says that God has been or is, Who swears he met with God in dre… Or face to face in woods and strea… Meshed in their boundaries.
IT’S hard to know if you’re alive… When steel and fire go roaring thr… One moment you’ll be crouching at… Traversing, mowing heaps down half… The next, you choke and clutch at…
Tangled in thought am I, Stumble in speech do I? Do I blunder and blush for the re… Wander aloof do I, Lean over gates and sigh,
To you who’d read my songs of War And only hear of blood and fame, I’ll say (you’ve heard it said bef… “War’s Hell!” and if you doubt th… Today I found in Mametz Wood
‘Make a song, father, a new little… All for Jenny and Nancy.’ Balow lalow or Hey derry down, Or else what might you fancy? Is there any song sweet enough
Cherries of the night are riper Than the cherries pluckt at noon Gather to your fairy piper When he pipes his magic tune: Merry, merry,
