France, you laugh too much, it seems. War will come to end your dreams. But why do you laugh so loud, my dear? Is it that all your dead may hear? There's laughter underneath the earth, evil laughter, cold and thin. The earth is black, they are within. They watch the graveworms' ghastly mirth while wooden crosses feel their tooth. They laugh, but 'tis at you, forsooth, France! You laugh too much, it seems. War will come to end your dreams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 21. TO CYRIACK SKINNER by JOHN MILTON FIRST LOVE by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE CLOUDS: THE OLD EDUCATION by ARISTOPHANES THE LAY OF THE LEVITE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE GIANTESS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE WILDERNESS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |