Wan, fragile faces of joy, Pitiful mouths that strive 'To light with smiles the place We dream we walk alive, To you I stretch my hands, Hands shut in pitiless trance In a land of ruin and woe, The desolate land of France. Dear faces startled and shaken, Out of wild dust and sounds You yearn to me, lure and sadden My heart with futile bounds. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT HE HAD HIS DREAM by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE PRETTY GIRL OF LOCH DAN by SAMUEL FERGUSON SONNET WRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTITION by JOHN KEATS THE KING OF DENMARK'S RIDE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON |