France. France, I know not what is in my heart. But God forbid that I should be more brave As watcher from a quiet place apart Than you are fighting in an open grave. I will not ask more of you than you ask O Bravest, of yourself. But shall I less? You know the depth of your appointed task Whether you still can bear its bloodiness. Not mine to say you shall not think of peace. Not mine, not mine: I almost know your pain. But I will not believe that you will cease, Nor will I bid you cease, from being slain Till everything that might have been distorted Is made secure for us and Hell is thwarted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 46 by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN ACCORDING TO THE MIGHTY WORKING by THOMAS HARDY A SPINNING SONG by JOHN FRANCIS O'DONNELL PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 8 by EDWARD TAYLOR THE NOTHING REDEMPTION by BRUCE WEIGL A PRAYER FOR MY DAUGHTER by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY by BERNARD BARTON |