Your body was my temple Wherein the pitiful ghosts of the Somme and Arras Reclothed themselves in the warm pulsating vestments Of uncorrupted flesh; And the life, the life of the lovely dead re-awakened When my captive desire Turned aside to pursue the vagrant lure of your shadow. Your body was my sepulchre, Wherein the complacent whiteness of glory and honour Burned away to a heap of grey spendthrift ashes On the ultimate altar; But the ghosts of the War shall walk for ever By that grave of contentment Where ripen the bitter-sweet fruits in Gethsemane's garden. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GO NOW' by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD: TRANSLATION by CAIUS PEDO ALBINOVANUS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 92. AL-ZARR by EDWIN ARNOLD COMMENDATORY VERSES TO WILLIAM BROWNE'S 'BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS' by WILLIAM BASSE THE SUNKEN LANE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 27 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH MOTHERS OF MEN by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |