Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NIGHT MANCEUVRES, by JAMES MONAHAN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

NIGHT MANCEUVRES, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Through january night we climbed
Last Line: I was not desolate before.
Subject(s): Desolation; Night; Silence; Winter; World War Ii; Bedtime; Second World War


THROUGH January night we climbed
by stream and wood and up this hill
(but worst was the last, black ploughland
that clogged and nearly broke our will),

so, sweating, sprawled where wood and plough
touched in the dark. "Midnight," we said
(trees' skeleton canopy,
a wind and winter overhead).

"Midnight" — a brittle warmth and silence
folded us then in threadbare ease
(the wind, a bare-fanged hunter,
tore, as it ran, the creaking trees).

The wind — a spectral hunt of wolves
yelped at the hooves of ghostly deer
(the million, bitter stars
danced, cold to the cruelty, to the fear).

And then the wind grew long — I saw
those heavens narrow to a cave
swept by eternal storm;
and at the mouth my minute grave.

I was not desolate before,
nor knew beyond an ultimate door
the dropping, sudden void.
I was not desolate before.





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