WHEN you are standing at your hero's grave, Or near some homeless village where he died, Remember, through your heart's rekindling pride, The German soldiers who were loyal and brave. Men fought like brutes; and hideous things were done; And you have nourished hatred, harsh and blind. But in that Golgotha perhaps you'll find The mothers of the men who killed your son. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LACK OF STEADFASTNESS; BALLAD by GEOFFREY CHAUCER LOST LOVE by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES BINSEY POPLARS (FELLED 1879) by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS HONEY DRIPPING FROM THE COMB by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE SHOOTING OF DAN MCGREW by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE QUEEN FORGETS by GEORGE STERLING BIRTH by ANNIE RAYMOND STILLMAN HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS (1) by ANYTE |