His feelings about the First World War were complex and ambiguous, and his writings reflect this. We five looked out over the moor At rough hills blurred with haze, and a still sea: Our tragic day, bountiful from the first.
We would spend it by the lily lake High in a fold beyond the farthest ridge , Following the cart-track till it faded out. The time of berries and bell-heather; Yet all that morning nobody went by But shepherds and one old man carting turfs. We were in love: No cloud; larks and heath-butterflies, And herons undisturbed fishing the streams; A slow cool breeze that hardly stirred the grass.
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When we hurried down the rocky slope, A flock of ewes galloping off in terror, There shone the waterlilies, yellow and white. Deep water and a shelving bank. Off went our clothes and in we went, all five, Diving like trout between the lily groves. This dust was once the Man,. Gentle, plain, just and resolute—under whose cautious hand,.
They shall grow not old
Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age,. Was saved the Union of These States. Passing the visions, passing the night;.
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Passing the song of the hermit bird, and the tallying song of my soul. As low and wailing yet clear the notes, rising and falling, flooding the night. Dickinson and Whitman were two of the most sensitive intelligences in the making of American poetry. That they were conflicted and pulled between the past and the future, only indicates the complexities that were in flux due to the war. Among other writers, from established authors to Americans who turned to poetry as a form of solace in a time of need, older patterns of expression continued to predominate.
Exposure by Wilfred Owen
The over-stuffed furnishings of Victorian literature was a recourse and a comfort to people in great need. Later, Mark Twain, among others, would lampoon that culture and kill it dead in the " Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The violence of the war sloughed off all the over wrought, emotionally dramatic Victorian proprieties that evaded the immediate impact of the thing itself.
As Americans recoiled from the reality of war, there was a sense of taking stock that in our literature and poetry would result in a more chastened and realistic language, one better suited to assess and describe the world that the War had created. Subscribe or Give a Gift. The darkness crumbles away. Droll rat, they would shoot you if they knew Your cosmopolitan sympathies. Now you have touched this English hand You will do the same to a German Soon, no doubt, if it be your pleasure To cross the sleeping green between.
It seems you inwardly grin as you pass Strong eyes, fine limbs, haughty athletes, Less chanced than you for life, Bonds to the whims of murder, Sprawled in the bowels of the earth, The torn fields of France. What do you see in our eyes At the shrieking iron and flame Hurled through still heavens? What quaver — what heart aghast? The Lament of the Demobilized Vera Brittain. And then it must have been A very fine experience for you! Men fought like brutes; and hideous things were done, And you have nourished hatred harsh and blind.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,. A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.
10 Most Famous Poems About Wars And Battles | Learnodo Newtonic
I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm That strewed an angle of the fallow, and Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square Of charlock. Every time the horses turned Instead of treading me down, the ploughman leaned Upon the handles to say or ask a word, About the weather, next about the war. Scraping the share he faced towards the wood, And screwed along the furrow till the brass flashed Once more. I could spare an arm. If I should lose my head, why, so, I should want nothing more. Have many gone From here?
#9 The Shield of Achilles
Only two teams work on the farm this year. One of my mates is dead. The second day In France they killed him.