You answered to the call for volunteers, To burning words of those who, Janus-faced, Sent you forth. You sought your love in haste To crowd into the days the joy of years. But this, your son, the fruitage of those hours, Will grow to manhood hearing but the tale That tells of seeking for a holy grail, A task full worthy of your youthful powers. But he will never know the awful stench Of nights endured by you within the trench, When blazing guns belched forth their fiery hells And choking gases cast miasmic spells. For him, the tale of grandeur, finely told, For you, the dreadful death -- betrayed and sold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE by SIDNEY LANIER THE BERG (A DREAM) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE RUSTIC LAD'S LAMENT IN THE TOWN by DAVID MACBETH MOIR SIT DOWN SAD SOUL by BRYAN WALLER PROCTER AIRY NOTHINGS. FR. THE TEMPEST by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |