France, you laugh too much, it seems. War will come to end your dreams. But why do you laugh so loud, my dear? Is it that all your dead may hear? There's laughter underneath the earth, evil laughter, cold and thin. The earth is black, they are within. They watch the graveworms' ghastly mirth while wooden crosses feel their tooth. They laugh, but 'tis at you, forsooth, France! You laugh too much, it seems. War will come to end your dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DREAM, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE GOD'S GARDEN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON WORDLY WISE (5) by MOTHER GOOSE THE BROOK: AUTUMN by LAURA ABELL IN APRIL by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY BLACKMWORE MAIDENS by WILLIAM BARNES |