GOD with a Roll of Honour in His hand Sits welcoming the heroes who have died, While sorrowless angels ranked on either side Stand easy in Elysium's meadow-land. Then you come shyly through the garden gate, Wearing a blood-soaked bandage on your head; And God says something kind because you're dead, And homesick, discontented with your fate. If I were there we'd snowball Death with skulls; Or ride away to hunt in Devil's Wood With ghosts of puppies that we walked of old. But you're alone; and solitude annuls Our earthly jokes; and strangely wise and good You roam forlorn along the streets of gold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY [1621] by MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON FROM POOLS OF DEEPER THOUGHT by MAUDE HARDY ARNOLD IN EMULATION OF MR. COWLEYS POEM CALL'D THE MOTTO by MARY ASTELL AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SINCERITIES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE HUNTER'S MOON by MATHILDE BLIND RETURN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |