@3An English Mother, on Looking into Masefield's@1 Old Front Line No country know I so well as this landscape of hell. Why bring you to my pain these shadow's effigys Of barb'd wire, riven trees, the corpse-strewn blasted plain? And the names—Hebuterne Bethune and La Bassée— I have nothing to learn— Contalmaison, Boisselle, And one where night and day my heart would pray and dwell; A desert sanctuary, where in holy vigil Year-long I have held my faith against th' imaginings Of horror and agony in an ordeal above The tears of suffering and took aid of angels: This was the temple of God: no mortuary of kings Ever gathered the spoils of such chivalry and love: No pilgrim shrine soe'er hath assembled such prayer— With rich incense-wafted ritual and requiem Not beauteous batter'd Rheims nor lorn Jerusalem. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CONFESSIONAL by ROBERT BROWNING WE WEAR THE MASK by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR BREAK OF DAY IN THE TRENCHES by ISAAC ROSENBERG AMORETTI: 34 by EDMUND SPENSER EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 22. 'TIS HONOURABLE TO BE LOVE'S MARTYR by PHILIP AYRES SONNET: FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON A FADING PHANTOM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |