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Francis Ledwidge
Contributed by
cmack
on
Monday, 10th December 2012 @ 03:09:35 AM in AEST
Topic:
dedicatedpoems
|
To walk amidst the evening chill
Ledwidge on my mind
Writing verse between the shells
Battle lines opined
The poison haze blights the dawn
Voices trenched and cowering
Far removed from the weaving Boyne
And youthful passions flowering
Thoughts of home and grassy lanes
Delights the pen to write
The horrors of the wailing guns
Confirms the deathly rite
Of noble youth, the richest soil
To nurture old men’s wisdom
The harvest of the slaughter fields
The Judas kiss upon them
McDonagh bled, your friend in verse
But rhymes of different hue
Cleared the fog of braided men
And made you dream anew
Until at Ypres, the ending hour
All blackbirds ceased to sing
Your name across the barren meadows
Your soul upon the wing
No summer mirth upon the plain
Nor seasoned fare to cheer
The banquet in its winter gloom
But your wine bereft of fear
Copyright ©
cmack
... [
2012-12-10 03:09:35] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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