Severn & Somme
Date: 2020-11-27T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: World War; 1914-1918 -- Poetry

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Severn & Somme

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Severn & Somme

Author: Ivor Gurney

Release date: November 27, 2020 [eBook #63895]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63895

Credits: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
available at The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVERN & SOMME ***

SEVERN & SOMME

SEVERN & SOMME

BY

IVOR GURNEY

Private, of the Gloucesters

LONDON: SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD.
3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI, W.C.2. 1917

First published in 1917

All rights reserved

TO

MARGARET HUNT

PREFACE

This book stands dedicated to one only of my friends, but there are many others to whom I would willingly dedicate singly and in state, if that did not mean the writing of forty books of verse and dedications—a terrible thing for all concerned.

So that, under the single name and sign of homage and affection, I would desire such readers as come to me to add also:

To my father and mother; F. W. Harvey (also a Gloucestershire lad); Miss Marion Scott, whose criticism has been so useful, and she so kind, in spite of my continued refusal to alter a word of anything; the Vicar of Twigworth; Herbert Howells (and this is not the last time you will hear of him); Mr. Hilaire Belloc, whose “Path to Rome” has been my trench companion, with “The Spirit of Man”; Mr. Wilfred Gibson, author of “Friends,” a great little book; many others also, including Shakespeare and Bach, both friends of mine; and, last but not least, my comrades of two platoons of the-/-[A] Gloucesters, who so often have wondered whether I were crazy or not. Let them draw their own conclusions now, for the writing of this book it was that so distracted me.... This is a long list, and even now does not include old Mrs. Poyner, who was so jolly and long-suffering, nor my boat Dorothy, now idle in the mud; though a poet sang of her full of glory at Framilode.

[A] The publication of Battalion Nos. being strictly forbidden by the Military Authorities, we have to leave the identification of the platoons referred to by Mr. Gurney to those whom it concerns.—S. & J., Ltd.

Even as I write the list becomes fuller, farther extended, yet a soldier must face pain, and so it remains shorter by far than might be.

I fear that those who buy the book (or even borrow), to get information about the Gloucesters will be disappointed. Most of the book is concerned with a person named Myself, and the rest with my county, Gloucester, that whether I die or live stays always with me—being in itself so beautiful, so full of memories; whose people are so good to be friends with, so easy-going and so frank.

Some of the afore-mentioned people I have never had good fortune enough to meet in the flesh, but that was not my fault. I hope they will forgive my using their names without permission. Ah, would they only retaliate in kind! That is, however, not likely, as I never was famous, and a Common Private makes but little show.

All these verses were written in France, and in sound of the guns, save only two or three earlier pieces. This should be reason enough to excuse any roughness in the technique. If more reason is required, people of home, and most of all, people of Gloucester, may well be indulgent to one who thought of them so often, and whose images of beauty in the mind were always of Gloucester, county of Cotswold and Severn, and a plain rich, blossomy, and sweet of airs—as the wise Romans knew, who made their homes in exile by the brown river, watching the further bank for signs of war.

Ivor Gurney.

Spring, 1917.

CONTENTS

| PAGE
TO CERTAIN COMRADES | 13
THE FIRE KINDLED | 15
TO THE POET BEFORE BATTLE | 17
MAISEMORE | 18
AFTERWARDS | 20
CAROL | 21
STRANGE SERVICE | 23
SERENITY | 25
THE SIGNALLER’S VISION | 26
THE MOTHER | 27
TO ENGLAND—A NOTE | 28
BACH AND THE SENTRY | 29
LETTERS | 30
STRAFE | 31
ACQUIESCENCE | 32
THE STRONG THING | 33
SCOTS | 34
TO AN UNKNOWN LADY | 35
SONG AND PAIN | 36
PURPLE AND BLACK | 37
WEST COUNTRY | 38
FIRELIGHT | 39
THE ESTAMINET | 40
SONG | 42
BALLAD OF THE THREE SPECTRES | 43
COMMUNION | 44
TIME AND THE SOLDIER | 45
INFLUENCES | 46
AFTER-GLOW | 47
HAIL AND FAREWELL | 48
PRAISE | 49
WINTER BEAUTY | 50
SONG OF PAIN AND BEAUTY | 52
SPRING. ROUEN, MAY 1917 | 53
JUNE—TO—COME | 57
“HARK, HARK, THE LARK” | 59
SONG AT MORNING | 60
TREES | 61
REQUIEM | 62
REQUIEM | 63
REQUIEM | 64
SONNETS 1917:
1. FOR ENGLAND | 65
2. PAIN | 66
3. SERVITUDE | 67
4. HOME-SICKNESS | 68
5. ENGLAND THE MOTHER | 69

SEVERN AND SOMME

TO CERTAIN COMRADES

(E. S. AND J. H.)

Living we loved you, yet withheld our praises
Before your faces;

And though we had your spirits high in honour,
After the English manner

We said no word. Yet, as such comrades would,
You understood.

Such friendship is not touched by Death’s disaster,
But stands the faster;

And all the shocks and trials of time cannot
Shake it one jot.

Beside the fire at night some far December,
We shall remember

And tell men, unbegotten as yet, the story
Of your sad glory—

Of your plain strength, your truth of heart, your splendid
Coolness, all ended!

All ended, ... yet the aching hearts of lovers
Joy overcovers,

Glad in their sorrow; hoping that if they must
Come to the dust,

An ending such as yours may be their portion,
And great good fortune—

That if we may not live to serve in peace
England, watching increase—

Then death with you, honoured, and swift, and high;
And so—not die.

IN TRENCHES, July 1916.

THE FIRE KINDLED

God, that I might see
Framilode once again!
Redmarley, all renewed,
Clear shining after rain.

And Cranham, Cranham trees,
And blaze of Autumn hues.
Portway under the moon,
Silvered with freezing dews.

May Hill that Gloster dwellers
’Gainst every sunset see;
And the wide Severn river
Homing again to the sea.

The star of afterglow,
Venus, on western hills;
Dymock in spring: O spring
Of home! O daffodils!

And Malvern’s matchless huge
Bastions of ancient fires—
These will not let me rest,
So hot my heart desires....

Here we go sore of shoulder,
Sore of foot, by quiet streams;
But these are not my rivers....
And these are useless dreams.

TO THE POET BEFORE BATTLE

Now, youth, the hour of thy dread passion comes:
Thy lovely things must all be laid away;
And thou, as others, must face the riven day
Unstirred by rattle of the rolling drums,
Or bugles’ strident cry. When mere noise numbs
The sense of being, the fear-sick soul doth sway,
Remember thy great craft’s honour, that they may say
Nothing in shame of poets. Then the crumbs
Of praise the little versemen joyed to take
Shall be forgotten: then they must know we are,
For all our skill in words, equal in might
And strong of mettle as those we honoured; make
The name of poet terrible in just war,
And like a crown of honour upon the fight.

MAISEMORE

O when we swung through Maisemore,
The Maisemore people cheered,
And women ran from farmyards,
And men from ricks, afeared

To lose the sight of soldiers
Who would, ’fore Christmas Day,
Blow Kaiser William’s Army
Like mist of breath away!

The war it was but young then!
And we were young, unknowing
The path we were to tread,
The way the path was going.

And not a man of all of us,
Marching across the bridge,
Had thought how Home would linger
In our hearts, as Maisemore Ridge.

When the darkness downward hovers
Making trees like German shadows,
How our souls fly homing, homing
Times and times to Maisemore meadows,

By Aubers ridge that Maisemore men
Have died in vain to hold....
The burning thought but once desires
Maisemore in morning gold!

O when we marched through Maisemore
Past many a creaking cart,
We little thought we had in us
Love so hot at heart.

AFTERWARDS

Those dreadful evidences of Man’s ill-doing
The kindly Mother of all shall soon hide deep,
Covering with tender fingers her children asleep,
Till Time’s slow cycle turns them to renewing
In other forms their beauty—no grief, no rueing
Irrevocable woe. They’ll lie, they’ll steep
Their hearts in peace unfathomed, till they leap
Quick to the light of the sun, as flowers strewing,
Maybe, their own friends’ paths. And that’s not all.
When men who knew them walk old ways alone,
The paths they loved together, at even-fall,
The troubled heart shall know a presence near,
Friendly, familiar, and the old grief gone,
The new keen joy shall make all darkness clear.

CAROL

Winter now has bared the trees,
Killed with tiny swords the jolly
Leafage that mid-summer sees,
But left the ivy and the holly.
Hold them high
And make delight
For Christë’s joy that’s born to-night.

All green things but these have hid
Their heads, or died in melancholy,
Winter’s spite them all has rid
Save only ivy and brave holly.
Give them place
In all men’s sight
For Christë’s grace that’s born to-night.

Baby eyes are pleased to see
Bright red berries and children jolly,
So shout and dance and sing with glee,
And honour ivy and prickly holly.
Honour courage
And make delight
For Christë’s sake that’s born to-night.

Christus natus hodie!
Drink deep of joy on Christmas Day,
Join hands and sing a roundelay,
For this is Christ’s and children’s day,
Christus natus hodie!
Hodie!

STRANGE SERVICE

Little did I dream, England, that you bore me
Under the Cotswold hills beside the water meadows,
To do you dreadful service, here, beyond your borders
And your enfolding seas.

I was a dreamer ever, and bound to your dear service,
Meditating deep, I thought on your secret beauty,
As through a child’s face one may see the clear spirit
Miraculously shining.

Your hills not only hills, but friends of mine and kindly,
Your tiny knolls and orchards hidden beside the river
Muddy and strongly-flowing, with shy and tiny streamlets
Safe in its bosom.

Now these are memories only, and your skies and rushy sky-pools
Fragile mirrors easily broken by moving airs....
In my deep heart for ever goes on your daily being,
And uses consecrate.

Think on me too, O Mother, who wrest my soul to serve you
In strange and fearful ways beyond your encircling waters;
None but you can know my heart, its tears and sacrifice;
None, but you, repay.

SERENITY

Nor steel nor flame has any power on me,
Save that its malice work the Almighty Will,
Nor steel nor flame has any power on me;
Through tempests of hell-fire I must go free
And unafraid; so I remember still
Nor steel nor flame has any power on me,
Save that its malice work the Almighty Will.

THE SIGNALLER’S VISION

One rainy winter dusk
Mending a parted cable,
Sudden I saw so clear
Home and the tea-table.

So clear it was, so sweet,
I did not start, but drew
The breath of deep content
Some minutes ere I knew

My Mother’s face that’s soother
Than autumn half-lights kind,
My softly smiling sisters
Who keep me still in mind,

Were but a dream, a vision—
That faded. And I knew
The smell of trench, trench-feeling—
And turned to work anew.

THE MOTHER

We scar the earth with dreadful engin’ry;
She takes us to her bosom at the last;
Hiding our hate with love, who cannot see
Of any child the faults; and holds us fast.
We’ll wait in quiet till our passion’s past.

TO ENGLAND—A NOTE

I watched the boys of England where they went
Through mud and water to do appointed things.
See one a stake, and one wire-netting brings,
And one comes slowly under a burden bent
Of ammunition. Though the strength be spent
They “carry on” under the shadowing wings
Of Death the ever-present. And hark, one sings
Although no joy from the grey skies be lent.

Are these the heroes—these? have kept from you
The power of primal savagery so long?
Shall break the devil’s legions? These they are
Who do in silence what they might boast to do;
In the height of battle tell the world in song
How they do hate and fear the face of War.

BACH AND THE SENTRY

Watching the dark my spirit rose in flood
On that most dearest Prelude of my delight.
The low-lying mist lifted its hood,
The October stars showed nobly in clear night.

When I return, and to real music-making,
And play that Prelude, how will it happen then?
Shall I feel as I felt, a sentry hardly waking,
With a dull sense of No Man’s Land again?

LETTERS

“Mail’s up!” The vast of night is over,
And love of friends fills all one’s mind.
(His wife, his sister, or his lover.)
Mail’s up, the vast of night is over,
The grey-faced heaven joy does cover
With love, and God once more seems kind.
“Mail’s up!” the vast of night is over,
And love of friends fills all one’s mind.

STRAFE

The “crumps” are falling twenty to the minute.
We crouch, and wait the end of it—or us.
Just behind the trench, before, and in it,
The “crumps” are falling twenty to the minute;
(O Framilode! O Maisemore’s laughing linnet!)
Here comes a monster like a motor-bus.
The “crumps” are falling twenty to the minute:
We crouch and wait the end of it—or us.

ACQUIESCENCE

Since I can neither alter my destiny
By one hair’s breadth from its appointed course;
Since bribes nor prayers nor any earthly force
May from its pathway move a life not free—
I must gather together the whole strength of me.
My senses make my willing servitors;
Cherish and feed the better, starve the worse;
Turn all my pride to proud humility.
Meeting the daily shocks and frozen, stony,
Cynical face of doubt with smiles and joy—
As a battle with autumn winds delights a boy,
Before the smut of the world and the lust of money,
Power, and fame, can yet his youth destroy;
Ere he has scorned his Father’s patrimony.

THE STRONG THING

I have seen Death and the faces of men in fear
Of Death, and shattered, terribly ruined flesh,
Appalled; but through the horror, coloured and clear
The love of my county, Gloster, rises afresh.

And on the Day of Days, the Judgment Day,
The Word of Doom awaiting breathless and still,
I’ll marvel how sweet’s the air down Framilode way,
And take my sentence on sheer-down Crickley Hill.

SCOTS

The boys who laughed and jested with me but yesterday,
So fit for kings to speak to, so blithe and proud and gay ...
Are now but thoughts of blind pain, and best hid away....
(Over the top this morning at the dawn’s first grey.)

O, if we catch the Kaiser his dirty hide to flay,
We’ll hang him on a tall tree his pride to allay.
That will not bring the boys again to mountain and brae....
(Over the top this morning at the dawn’s first grey.)

To think—earth’s best and dearest turned to red broken clay
By one devil’s second! What words can we say?
Or what gift has God their mothers’ anguish to repay?...
(Over the top this morning at the first flush of day.)

TO AN UNKNOWN LADY

You that were once so sweet, are sweeter now
That an even leaden greyness clouds my days;
A pain it is to think on your sweet ways,
Your careless-tender speaking, tender and low.
When the hills enclosed us, hid in happy valleys,
Greeting a thousand times the things most dear,
We wasted thoughts of love in laughter clear,
And told our passion out in mirthful sallies.
But in me now a burning impulse rages
To praise our love in words like flaming gold,
Molten and live for ever; not fit for cold
And coward like-to-passions Time assuages.
Nor do I fear you are lovely only in dreams,
Being as the sky reflected in clear streams.

SONG AND PAIN

Out of my sorrow have I made these songs,
Out of my sorrow;
Though somewhat of the making’s eager pain
From Joy did borrow.

Some day, I trust, God’s purpose of Pain for me
Shall be complete,
And then—to enter in the House of Joy....
Prepare, my feet.

PURPLE AND BLACK

The death of princes is
Honoured most greatly,
Proud kings put purple on
In manner stately.

Though they have lived such life
As God offends,
Gone fearful down to death,
Sick, without friends.

And in the temple dim,
Trumpets of gold
Proclaim their glory; so
Their story is told.

In sentimental hymns
Weeping her dolour,
The mother of heroes wears
Vile black—Death’s colour,

Who should walk proudly with
The noblest one
Of all that purple throng—
“This was my son.”

WEST COUNTRY

Spring comes soon to Maisemore
And spring comes sweet,
With bird-songs and blue skies,
On gay dancing feet;
But she is such a shy lady
I fear we’ll never meet.

Yet some day round a corner
Where the hedge foams white,
I’ll find Spring sleeping
In the young-crescent night,
And seize her and make her
Yield all her delight.

But yon’s a glad story
That’s yet to be told.
Here’s grey winter’s bareness
And no-shadowed cold.
O Spring, with your music,
Your blue, green, and gold,
Come shame his hard wisdom
With laughter and gold!

FIRELIGHT

Silent, bathed in firelight, in dusky light and gloom
The boys squeeze together in the smoky dirty room,
Crowded round the fireplace, a thing of bricks and tin,
They watch the shifting embers till the good dreams enter in,

That fill the low hovel with blossoms fresh with dew,
And blue sky and white clouds that sail the clear air through.
They talk of daffodillies and the bluebells’ skiey bed,
Till silence thrills and murmurs at the things they have said.

And yet, they have no skill of words, whose eyes glow so deep,
They wait for night and silence and the strange power of sleep,
To lift them and drift them like sea-birds over the sea
Where some day I shall walk again, and they walk with me.

THE ESTAMINET

The crowd of us were drinking
One night at Riez Bailleul,
The glasses were a-clinking,
The estaminet was full;

And loud with song and story
And blue with tales and smoke,—
We spoke no word of glory,
Nor mentioned “foreign yoke.”

But yarns of girls in Blighty;
Vain, jolly, ugly, fair,
Standoffish, foolish, flighty—
And O! that we were there!

Where never thuds a “Minnie,”
But Minnie smiles at you
A-meeting in the spinney,
With kisses not a few.

And of an inn that Johnson
Does keep; the “Rising Sun.”
His friends him call Jack Johnson,
He’s Gloster’s only one.

And talk of poachers’ habits
(But girls ever and again)
Of killing weasels, rabbits,
Stoats, pheasants, never men,

Although we knew to-morrow
Must take us to the line,
In beer hid thought and sorrow,
In ruddy and white wine.

When all had finished drinking,
Though still was clear each head,
We said no word—went slinking
Straight homeward (?), into bed (?).

O never lads were merrier
Nor straighter nor more fine,
Though we were only “Terrier”
And only, “Second Line.”

O I may get to Blighty,
Or hell, without a sign
Of all the love that filled me,
Leave dumb the love that filled me,
The flood of love that filled me
For these dear comrades of mine.

SONG

Only the wanderer
Knows England’s graces,
Or can anew see clear
Familiar faces.

And who loves joy as he
That dwells in shadows?
Do not forget me quite,
O Severn meadows.

BALLAD OF THE THREE SPECTRES

As I went up by Ovillers
In mud and water cold to the knee,
There went three jeering, fleering spectres,
That walked abreast and talked of me.

The first said, “Here’s a right brave soldier
That walks the dark unfearingly;
Soon he’ll come back on a fine stretcher,
And laughing for a nice Blighty.”

The second, “Read his face, old comrade,
No kind of lucky chance I see;
One day he’ll freeze in mud to the marrow,
Then look his last on Picardie.”

Though bitter the word of these first twain
Curses the third spat venomously;
“He’ll stay untouched till the war’s last dawning
Then live one hour of agony.”

Liars the first two were. Behold me
At sloping arms by one—two—three;
Waiting the time I shall discover
Whether the third spake verity.

COMMUNION

Beauty lies so deep
On all the fields,
Nothing for the eyes
But blessing yields.

Tall elms, greedy of light,
Stand tip-toe. See
The last light linger in
Their tracery.

The guns are dumb, are still
All evil noises.
The singing heart in peace
Softly rejoices,

Only unsatisfied
With Beauty’s hunger
And sacramental thirst—
Nothing of anger.

Mist wraiths haunt the path
As daylight lessens,
The stars grow clearer, and
My dead friend’s presence.

TIME AND THE SOLDIER

How slow you move, old Time;
Walk a bit faster!
Old fool, I’m not your slave....
Beauty’s my master!

You hold me for a space....
What are you, Time?
A ghost, a thing of thought,
An easy rhyme.

Some day I shall again,
For all your scheming,
See Severn valley clouds
Like banners streaming.

And walk in Cranham lanes,
By Maisemore go....
But, fool, decrepit Fool,
You are SO SLOW!!!

INFLUENCES

When woods of home grow dark,
I grow dark too.
Images of strange power
Fill me and thrill me that hour,
Sombre of hue.

The woods of Dunsinane
I walk, and know
What storms did shake Macbeth,
That brought on Duncan’s death,
And his own woe.

Strange whispers chill the blood
Of evil breath;
Such rumours as did stir
Witch and foul sorcerer
On the lone heath.

No power have these on me;
I know too well
Their weakness to condemn.
Spring will exorcise them
With one bluebell.

AFTER-GLOW

[To F. W. Harvey]

Out of the smoke and dust of the little room
With tea-talk loud and laughter of happy boys,
I passed into the dusk. Suddenly the noise
Ceased with a shock, left me alone in the gloom,
To wonder at the miracle hanging high
Tangled in twigs, the silver crescent clear.—
Time passed from mind. Time died; and then we were
Once more at home together, you and I.

The elms with arms of love wrapped us in shade
Who watched the ecstatic West with one desire,
One soul uprapt; and still another fire
Consumed us, and our joy yet greater made:
That Bach should sing for us, mix us in one
The joy of firelight and the sunken sun.

HAIL AND FAREWELL

The destined bullet wounded him,
They brought him down to die,
Far-off a bugle sounded him
“Retreat,” Good-bye.

Strange, that from ways so hated,
And tyranny so hard
Should come this strangely fated
And farewell word.

He thought, “Some Old Sweat might
Have thrilled at heart to hear,
Gone down into the night
Too proud to fear!

But I—the fool at arms,
Musician, poet to boot,
Who hail release; what charms
In this salute?”

He smiled—“The latest jest
That time on me shall play.”
And watched the dying west,
Went out with the day.

PRAISE

O friends of mine, if men mock at my name,
Say “Children loved him.”
Since by that word you will have far removed him
From any bitter shame.

WINTER BEAUTY

I cannot live with Beauty out of mind;
I seek her and desire her all the day,
Being the chiefest treasure man may find,
And word most sweet his eager lips can say.
She is as strong on me as though I wandered
In Severn meadows some blue riotous day.

But since the trees have long since lost their green,
And I, an exile, can but dream of things
Grown magic in the mind, I watch the sheen
Of frost and hear the song Orion sings,
And hear the star-born passion of Beethoven;
Man’s consolations sung on the quivering strings.

Beauty of song remembered, sunset glories,
Mix in my mind, till I not care nor know
Whether the stars do move me, golden stories,
Or ruddy Cotswold in the sunset glow.
I am uprapt, and not my own, immortal, ...
In winds of Beauty swinging to and fro.

Beauty immortal, not to be hid, desire
Of all men, each in his fashion, give me the strong
Thirst past satisfaction for thee, and fire
Not to be quenched.... O lift me, bear me along,
Touch me, make me worthy that men may seek me
For Beauty, Mistress Immortal, Healer of Wrong.

SONG OF PAIN AND BEAUTY

[To M. M. S.]

O may these days of pain,
These wasted-seeming days,
Somewhere reflower again
With scent and savour of praise.
Draw out of memory all bitterness
Of night with Thy sun’s rays.

And strengthen Thou in me
The love of men here found,
And eager charity,
That, out of difficult ground,
Spring like flowers in barren deserts, or
Like light, or a lovely sound.

A simpler heart than mine
Might have seen beauty clear
Where I could see no sign
Of Thee, but only fear.
Strengthen me, make me to see Thy beauty always
In every happening here.

In Trenches, March 1917.

SPRING. ROUEN, MAY 1917

I am dumb, I am dumb!
And here’s a Norman orchard and here’s Spring
Goading the sullen words that will not come.
Romance, beating his distant magical drum,
Calls to a soldier bearing alien arms,
“Throw off your yoke and hear my darlings sing,
Blackbirds” (by red-roofed farms)
“More drunk than any poet with May’s delight,
Green alive to the eye, and pink and white.”

Joy’s there, but not for me;
And song, but shall I sing
That live as in a dream of some bad night,
Whose memories are of such ecstasy
And height of passionate joy, that pain alone
Is born of beauty in cloud and flower and tree;
Yes, and the great Cathedral’s towering stone.

To me these are but shadows
Of orchards and old meadows
Trodden before the dawn,
Trodden after the dusk....
All loveliness of France is as a husk,
The inner living spirit of beauty gone,
To that familiar beauty now withdrawn
From exiles hungering ever for the sight
Of her day-face;
England’s;
Or in some orchard space
Breathless to drink peace from her calm night.

How shall I sing, since she sings not to me
Songs any more?
High rule she holds for ever on the sea
That’s hers, but dreams too might guard the shore
Of France, that’s French and set apart for ever.
A Spirit of Love our link of song does sever.
Had it been hate
(The weakest of all sworn enemies of Love)
We should have broken through or passed above
Its foolish barriers;
Here we must bow as to established Fate,
And reverently; for, comrades and high peers,
Sisters in blood,
Our mothers brook no rival in their state
Of motherhood.

But not for ever shall our travail last,
And not for ever we
Be held by iron Duty over sea.
The image of evil shall be overcast,
And all his willing slaves and priests of evil
Scattered like dust, shall lie upon the plain;
That image, ground to dust utterly level
With unregarded weeds and all as vain.
The oppressed shall lift their hearts up once again,
And we return....
Not to scarred lands and homes laid in the dust,
Not with hard hearts to sights that sear and burn,
But with assured longing and certain trust,
To England’s royal grace and dignity,
To England’s changing skies, rich greenery,
High strength controlled, queenly serenity,
Inviolate kept by her confederate sea
And hearts resolved to every sacrifice.
We shall come home,
We shall come home again,
Living and dead, one huge victorious host—
The dead that would not leave their comrades till
The last steep were topped of the difficult hill,
The last farthing paid of the Great Cost,
The last thrill suffered of the Great Pain.
Living and dead, we shall come home at last
To her sweet breast,
England’s; by one touch be paid in full
For all things grey and long and terrible
Of that dread night which seemed eternity.

O Mother, shall thy kisses not restore
Body and life-sick soul? Yes, and set free
Songs and great floods of lovelier melody
Than thou didst give
When we those days of half-awake did live.
And joy must surely flower again more fair
To us, who dwelt in shadows and foul air.
We’ll breathe and drink in song.

Spring shall blot out all traces of old care;
Her clouds of green and waves of gold among
We shall grow free of heart, and great, and young—
Be made anew in that Great Resurrection,
Perfect as is the violet’s perfection.
Perfect as she
Who sanctifies our memory with sorrow,
Hugs, as a mother hugs, the thoughts that harrow,
Watching for dawn, hungering for the morrow
Lone oversea....

I am dumb now, dumb,
But in that time what music shall not come?
Mother of Beauty, Mistress of the Sea.

JUNE—TO—COME

When the sun’s fire and gold
Sets the bee humming,
I will not write to tell
Him that I’m coming,

But ride out unawares
On that old road,
Of Minsterworth, of Peace,
Of Framilode,

And walk, not looked for, in
That cool, dark passage.
Never a single word;
Myself my message.

And then; well ... O we’ll drift
And stand and gaze,
And wonder how we could
In those Bad Days

Live without Minsterworth;
Or western air
Fanning the hot cheek,
Stirring the hair;
In land where hate of men
God’s love did cover;
This land.... And here’s my dream
Irrevocably over.

“HARK, HARK, THE LARK”

Hark, hark, the lark to heaven’s gate uprisen,
Pours out his joy ...
I think of you, shut in some distant prison,
O Boy, poor Boy;

Your heart grown sick with hope deferred and shadows
Of prison ways;
Not daring to snatch a thought of Severn meadows,
Or old blue-days.

SONG AT MORNING

Praise for the day’s magnificent uprising!
Praise for the cool
Air and the blue new-old ever-surprising
Face of the sky, and mirrored blue of the pool.
Only the fool, bat-witted, owl-eyed fool
Can hold a deaf ear while life begins
The actual opening of a myriad stories....
Blindness, ingratitude, the foolishest sins!
Now if this day blot out my chief desires,
And leave me maimed and blind and full of hot
Surges of insurrection, evil fires,
Memories of joys that seem better forgot;
Quiet me then.
Thy Will is binding on the nearest flower
As on the farthest star; and what shall put me
Out of Thy power, or from Thy guidance far,
Though I in hell of my self-will would shut me?
But if Thy Will be joy for me to-day,
Give me clear eyes, a heart open to feel
Thy influence, Thy kindness: O unseal
The shut, the hidden places in me, reveal
Those things most precious secretly hidden away
From all save children and the simply wise.
Give me clear eyes!
And strength to know, whatever may befall,
The eternal presence of great mysteries,
Glorifying Thee for all.

TREES

(“You cannot think how ghastly these battle-fields look under a grey sky. Torn trees are the most terrible things I have ever seen. Absolute blight and curse is on the face of everything.”)

The dead land oppressed me;
I turned my thoughts away,
And went where hill and meadow
Are shadowless and gay.

Where Coopers stands by Cranham,
Where the hill-gashes white
Show golden in the sunshine,
Our sunshine—God’s delight.

Beauty my feet stayed at last
Where green was most cool,
Trees worthy of all worship
I worshipped ... then, O fool,

Let my thoughts slide unwitting
To other, dreadful trees, ...
And found me standing, staring
Sick of heart—at these!

REQUIEM

Pour out your light, O stars, and do not hold
Your loveliest shining from earth’s outworn shell—
Pure and cold your radiance, pure and cold
My dead friend’s face as well.

REQUIEM

Nor grief nor tears should wrong the silent dead
Save England’s, for her children fallen so far
From her eager care; though by God’s justice led
And fallen in such a war.

REQUIEM

Pour out your bounty, moon of radiant shining
On all this shattered flesh, these quiet forms;
For these were slain, so strangely still reclining,
In the noblest cause was ever waged with arms.

SONNETS 1917

[To the Memory of Rupert Brooke]

1. FOR ENGLAND

Though heaven be packed with joy-bewildering
Pleasures of soul and heart and mind, yet who
Would willingly let slip, freely let go
Earth’s mortal loveliness; go wandering
Where never the late bird is heard to sing,
Nor full-sailed cloud-galleons wander slow;
No pathways in the woods; no afterglow,
When the air’s fire and magic with sense of spring?

So the dark horror clouds us, and the dread
Of the unknown.... But if it must be, then
What better passing than to go out like men
For England, giving all in one white glow?
Whose bodies shall lie in earth as on a bed,
And as the Will directs our spirits may go

2. PAIN

Pain, pain continual; pain unending;
Hard even to the roughest, but to those
Hungry for beauty.... Not the wisest knows,
Nor most pitiful-hearted, what the wending
Of one hour’s way meant. Grey monotony lending
Weight to the grey skies, grey mud where goes
An army of grey bedrenched scarecrows in rows
Careless at last of cruellest Fate-sending.
Seeing the pitiful eyes of men foredone,
Or horses shot, too tired merely to stir,
Dying in shell-holes both, slain by the mud.
Men broken, shrieking even to hear a gun.—
Till pain grinds down, or lethargy numbs her,
The amazed heart cries angrily out on God.

3. SERVITUDE

If it were not for England, who would bear
This heavy servitude one moment more?
To keep a brothel, sweep and wash the floor
Of filthiest hovels were noble to compare
With this brass-cleaning life. Now here, now there
Harried in foolishness, scanned curiously o’er
By fools made brazen by conceit, and store
Of antique witticisms thin and bare.

Only the love of comrades sweetens all,
Whose laughing spirit will not be outdone.
As night-watching men wait for the sun
To hearten them, so wait I on such boys
As neither brass nor Hell-fire may appal,
Nor guns, nor sergeant-major’s bluster and noise.

4. HOME-SICKNESS

When we go wandering the wide air’s blue spaces,
Bare, unhappy, exiled souls of men;
How will our thoughts over and over again
Return to Earth’s familiar lovely places,
Where light with shadow ever interlaces—
No blanks of blue, nor ways beyond man’s ken—
Where birds are, and flowers, as violet, and wren,
Blackbird, bluebell, hedge-sparrow, tiny daisies.

O tiny things, but very stuff of soul
To us ... so frail.... Remember what we are;
Set us not on some strange outlandish star,
But one caring for Love. Give us a Home.
There we may wait while the long ages roll
Content, unfrightened by vast Time-to-come.

5. ENGLAND THE MOTHER

We have done our utmost, England, terrible
And dear taskmistress, darling Mother and stern.
The unnoticed nations praise us, but we turn
Firstly, only to thee—“Have we done well?
Say, are you pleased?”—and watch your eyes that tell
To us all secrets, eyes sea-deep that burn
With love so long denied; with tears discern
The scars and haggard look of all that hell.

Thy love, thy love shall cherish, make us whole,
Whereto the power of Death’s destruction is weak.
Death impotent, by boys bemocked at, who
Will leave unblotted in the soldier-soul
Gold of the daffodil, the sunset streak,
The innocence and joy of England’s blue.

THE END

PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.

From Sidgwick & Jackson’s List of Poetry

ASQUITH, HERBERT. The Volunteer and other Poems. Second Edition, with new Poems added. 2s. net.

BROOKE, RUPERT. Poems. (First issued 1911.) Nineteenth Impression. 2s. 6d. net.

—— 1914 and other Poems. With a Portrait. Twenty-first Impression. 2s. 6d. net.

—— Selected Poems. With a new Portrait. Second Impression. Cloth, 3s. 6d. net; lambskin, 5s. net.

DRINKWATER, JOHN. Swords and Ploughshares. Second Impression. 2s. 6d. net.

—— Olton Pools. Second Impression. 2s. 6d. net.

—— Pawns; Three Poetic Plays. 2s. 6d. net.

—— Poems, 1908-1914. 5s. net.

ENSOR, R. C. K. Odes and other Poems. 2s. net.

GARSTIN, CROSBIE. Vagabond Verses. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net.

GRAVES, C. L. War’s Surprises, and other Verses. Cloth, 3s. 6d. net. [Second Impression.

HARVEY, F. W. A Gloucestershire Lad. Fourth Impression. Cloth, 2s. net; paper 1s. 6d. net.

—— Gloucestershire Friends. Poems from a German Prison Camp. 2s. 6d. net.

JENKINS, ELINOR. Poems. 2s. 6d. net.

MACAULAY, ROSE. The Two Blind Countries. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net.

NIVEN, FREDERICK. Maple-leaf Songs. Wrappers. 1s. net.

OWEN, EVERARD. Three Hills and other Poems. Second Impression. Wrappers, 6d. net.

SHAKESPEARE, W. G. Ypres and other Poems. Boards, 2s. net.

SHANKS, EDWARD. Poems. 2s. 6d. net.

“SOME VERSE.” By F. S. Third Impression. Boards, 2s. net.

SONGS OF THE “BLUE DRAGON.” Cloth, 1s. 6d. net; wrappers, 1s. net.

TURNER, W. J. The Hunter and other Poems. Cloth, 2s. 6d. net.

TYNAN, KATHARINE. Flower of Youth. Second Impression. 3s. 6d. net.

—— The Holy War. 3s. 6d. net.

—— Late Songs. 3s. 6d. net.

YORKSHIRE DIALECT POEMS (1673-1915). Compiled with an Introduction by Prof. F. W. Moorman. Second Edition. Cloth, 2s. net; paper, 1s. net.

An anthology of the best poems in “broad Yorkshire.”

Complete List of Poetry and other Catalogues on application.

SIDGWICK & JACKSON, Ltd., 3 Adam Street, Adelphi, London, W.C.2

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVERN & SOMME ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516, Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

- SEVERN & SOMME

- PREFACE

- CONTENTS

- SEVERN AND SOMME

- TO CERTAIN COMRADES (E. S. AND J. H.)
- THE FIRE KINDLED
- TO THE POET BEFORE BATTLE
- MAISEMORE
- AFTERWARDS
- CAROL
- STRANGE SERVICE
- SERENITY
- THE SIGNALLER’S VISION
- THE MOTHER
- TO ENGLAND—A NOTE
- BACH AND THE SENTRY
- LETTERS
- STRAFE
- ACQUIESCENCE
- THE STRONG THING
- SCOTS
- TO AN UNKNOWN LADY
- SONG AND PAIN
- PURPLE AND BLACK
- WEST COUNTRY
- FIRELIGHT
- THE ESTAMINET
- SONG
- BALLAD OF THE THREE SPECTRES
- COMMUNION
- TIME AND THE SOLDIER
- INFLUENCES
- AFTER-GLOW
- HAIL AND FAREWELL
- PRAISE
- WINTER BEAUTY
- SONG OF PAIN AND BEAUTY
- SPRING. ROUEN, MAY 1917
- JUNE—TO—COME
- “HARK, HARK, THE LARK”
- SONG AT MORNING
- TREES
- REQUIEM
- REQUIEM
- REQUIEM

- SONNETS 1917

- 1. FOR ENGLAND
- 2. PAIN
- 3. SERVITUDE
- 4. HOME-SICKNESS
- 5. ENGLAND THE MOTHER

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE