We had forgotten You, or very nearly— You did not seem to touch us very nearly— Of course we thought about You now and then: Especially in any time of trouble— We knew that You were good in time of trouble— But we are very ordinary men. And there were always other things to think of— There's lots of things a man has got to think of— His work, his home, his pleasure, and his wife: And so we only thought of You on Sunday— Sometimes, perhaps, not even on a Sunday— Because there's always lots to fill one's life. And all the while, in street or lane or by-way— In country lane, or city street, or by-way— You walked among us and we did not see. Your feet were bleeding as You walked our pavements— How did we miss your footprints on our pavements? Can there be other folk as blind as we? Now we remember: over here in Flanders— (It isn't strange to think of You in Flanders)— This hideous warfare seems to make things clear. We never thought about You much in England— But, now that we are far away from England— We have no doubts, we know that You are here. You helped us pass the jest along the trenches— Where, in cold blood, we waited in the trenches— You touched its ribaldry and made it fine. You stood before us in our pain and weakness— We're glad to think You understand our weakness— Somehow it seems to help us not to whine. We think about You kneeling in the garden— Ah! God! the agony of that dread garden— We know You prayed for us upon the cross. If anything could make us glad to bear it— 'Twould be the knowledge that You willed to bear it— Pain—death—the uttermost of human loss. Though we forgot You—You will not forget us— We feel so sure You will not forget us— But stay with us until this dream is past. And so we ask for courage, strength and pardon— Especially, I think, we ask for pardon— And that You'll stand beside us to the last. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN TALL GRASS by CARL SANDBURG TROY PARK: 1. THE WARMTH OF SPRING by EDITH SITWELL CLEOMENS, OR THE SPARTAN HERO: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN A CHRISTMAS CAROL, SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL by ROBERT HERRICK AFTER CONSTRUING by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON PRELUDE TO FAITH by MARJORIE MERRILL BLISS |