Wan, fragile faces of joy, Pitiful mouths that strive 'To light with smiles the place We dream we walk alive, To you I stretch my hands, Hands shut in pitiless trance In a land of ruin and woe, The desolate land of France. Dear faces startled and shaken, Out of wild dust and sounds You yearn to me, lure and sadden My heart with futile bounds. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE AND SLEEP by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 9. GOING TO THE FAIR by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TRANQUIL HABIT by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER THE MAID OF LLANWELLYN; A SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE THE BLACK MOUSQUETAIRE; A LEGEND OF FRANCE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 5 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH SORDELLO: BOOK 4 by ROBERT BROWNING |