The summary analyzes three poems by Charles Hamilton Sorley. The first poem describes rooks cawing in trees near rusty iron. The rooks' calls cannot be understood by humans until death. The second poem encourages marching soldiers to sing and pour gladness onto the earth despite marching towards death. The third poem describes running freely without purpose through the air, land and seas during a storm.
The summary analyzes three poems by Charles Hamilton Sorley. The first poem describes rooks cawing in trees near rusty iron. The rooks' calls cannot be understood by humans until death. The second poem encourages marching soldiers to sing and pour gladness onto the earth despite marching towards death. The third poem describes running freely without purpose through the air, land and seas during a storm.
The summary analyzes three poems by Charles Hamilton Sorley. The first poem describes rooks cawing in trees near rusty iron. The rooks' calls cannot be understood by humans until death. The second poem encourages marching soldiers to sing and pour gladness onto the earth despite marching towards death. The third poem describes running freely without purpose through the air, land and seas during a storm.
The summary analyzes three poems by Charles Hamilton Sorley. The first poem describes rooks cawing in trees near rusty iron. The rooks' calls cannot be understood by humans until death. The second poem encourages marching soldiers to sing and pour gladness onto the earth despite marching towards death. The third poem describes running freely without purpose through the air, land and seas during a storm.
The rooks are cawing all the day. Perhaps no man, until he dies, Will understand them, what they say. The evening makes the sky like clay. The slow wind waits for night to rise. The world is half content. But they Still trouble all the trees with cries, That know, and cannot put away, The yearning to the soul that flies From day to night, from night to day. Charles Hamilton Sorley
All the hills and vales along
All the hills and vales along Earth is bursting into song, And the singers are the chaps Who are going to die perhaps. O sing, marching men, Till the valleys ring again, Give your gladness to earth's keeping, So be glad, when you are sleeping. Cast away regret and rue, Think what you are marching to. Little live, great pass. Jesus Christ and Barabbas Were found the same day. This died, that went his way. So sing with joyful breath, For why, you are gong to death. Teeming earth will surely store All the gladness that you pour. Earth that never doubts nor fears, Earth that knows of death, not tears, Earth that bore with joyful ease Hemlock for Socrates, Earth that blossomed and was glad 'Neath the cross that Christ had, Shall rejoice and blossom too When the bullet reaches you. Wherefore, men marching On the road to death, sing! Pour gladness on earth's head, So be merry, so be dead. From the hills and valleys earth Shouts back the sound of mirth, Tramp of feet and lilt of song Ringing all the road along. All the music of their going, Ringing swinging glad song-throwing, Earth will echo still, when foot Lies numb and voice mute. On marching men, on To the gates of death with song. Sow your gladness for earth's reaping, So you may be glad though sleeping. Strew your gladness on earth's bed, So be merry, so be dead. Charles Hamilton Sorley
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
When you see millions of the mouthless dead Across your dreams in pale battalions go, Say not soft things as other men have said, That you'll remember. For you need not so. Give them not praise. For deaf, how should they know It is not curses heaped on each gashed head? Nor tears. Their blind eyes see not your tears flow. Nor honour. It is easy to be dead. Say only this, 'They are dead.' Then add thereto, 'Yet many a better one has died before.' Then scanning all the o'ercrowded mass, should you Perceive one face that you loved heretofore, It is a spook. None wears the face you knew. Great death has made all his forevermore. Charles Hamilton Sorley
The Song of the Ungirt Runners
We swing ungirded hips, And lightened are our eyes. The rain is on our lips, We do not run for prize. We know not whom we trust Nor witherward we fare, But we run because we must Through the great, wide air. The waters of the seas 2 Are troubled as by storm. The tempest strips the trees And does not leave them warm. Does the tearing tempest pause? Do the tree-tops ask it why? So we run without a cause 'Neath the big, bare sky. The rain is on our lips, We do not run for prize. But the storm the water whips And the wave howls to the skies. The winds arise and strike it And scatter it like sand, And we run because we like it Through the broad, bright land. Charles Hamilton Sorley Complete List of Poets: http://worldlibrary.net/Poems.htm