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Francis Ledwidge
Contributed by
cmack
on
Monday, 10th December 2012 @ 03:09:35 AM in AEST
Topic:
dedicatedpoems
|
To walk amidst the evening chill Ledwidge on my mind Writing verse between the shells Battle lines opined
The poison haze blights the dawn Voices trenched and cowering Far removed from the weaving Boyne And youthful passions flowering
Thoughts of home and grassy lanes Delights the pen to write The horrors of the wailing guns Confirms the deathly rite
Of noble youth, the richest soil To nurture old mens wisdom The harvest of the slaughter fields The Judas kiss upon them
McDonagh bled, your friend in verse But rhymes of different hue Cleared the fog of braided men And made you dream anew
Until at Ypres, the ending hour All blackbirds ceased to sing Your name across the barren meadows Your soul upon the wing
No summer mirth upon the plain Nor seasoned fare to cheer The banquet in its winter gloom But your wine bereft of fear
Copyright ©
cmack
... [
2012-12-10 03:09:35] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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