France. France, I know not what is in my heart. But God forbid that I should be more brave As watcher from a quiet place apart Than you are fighting in an open grave. I will not ask more of you than you ask O Bravest, of yourself. But shall I less? You know the depth of your appointed task Whether you still can bear its bloodiness. Not mine to say you shall not think of peace. Not mine, not mine: I almost know your pain. But I will not believe that you will cease, Nor will I bid you cease, from being slain Till everything that might have been distorted Is made secure for us and Hell is thwarted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KATHMANDU GUEST HOUSE by KAREN SWENSON AN ANSWER TO THE PARSON by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LAWYER'S INVOCATION TO SPRING by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL THE AMERICAN FOREST GIRL by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS SONG (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MEMORY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 27 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |