Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/1169

 JULIAN GRENFELL

The thundering line of battle stands, And in the air Death moans and sings;

But Day shall clasp him with strong hands, And Night shall fold him in soft wings.

��WILFRID OWEN

Anthem for Doomed Youth

WHAT passing-bells for these who die as cattle ? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them from prayers or bells,

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells, And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all ?

Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall bhine the holy glimmers of good-byes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall , Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

��CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY

��964 The Song of the Ungirt Runners

rE swing ungirded hips, And lighten 'd are our eyes, The rain is on our lips, We do not run for prize.

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