# Poems about war. **URL:** \ **Category:** Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share\ **Created:** [June 8, 2000, 6:33am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727 "2000-06-08T06:33:03Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 20\ **Page:** 2
**Author:** ![Rodd\_Hill](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/3ab097/32.png) [@Rodd\_Hill](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Rodd_Hill)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 5:11am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/21 "2000-06-09T05:11:09Z")
Here’s a poem by a Canadian POW in Japanese hands, written after seeing USAAF aircraft bomb Hong Kong: **The Yanks Came Over Hong Kong** by Sid Varcoe, Winnipeg Grenadiers (POW 1941-45) The Yanks came over Hong Kong, And pulled a nuisance raid; They made no hits, said Nippon, But what a hit they made! Ten months of slow starvation, And no-one knew how we fared; We had no indication That anybody cared! One blue October morning, The Ack-ack sounded off; The strident air-raid warning Evoked our skeptic scoff. In a droning, mad crescendo, We heard a bomber dive– A string of detonations, And then we came alive! The Yanks were over Hong Kong, The compound shook with cheers; And smiles lit up the faces Of dying Grenadiers! The Yanks came over Hong Kong, And gave the Japs a fright, And we, the weak and helpless, Are victims of their spite. They’ve gone from bad to rotten; But we take it with a grin– We know we’re not forgotten, We know which side will win. The Yanks came over Hong Kong, The damage done was slight, But still it seems a symbol Of growing Yankee might. Old Kipling knew a thing or two about soldiering, in peace and in war: _from: “Tommy”_ We aren’t no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too, But single men in barracks, most remarkable like you; And if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints, Why, single men in barracks don’t grow into plaster saints; While it’s “Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ Tommy, fall behind,” But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind, There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind, O it’s “Please to walk in front sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind. You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all: We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace. For it’s “Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ Chuck him out, the brute!” But it’s “Saviour of his country” when the guns begin to shoot; An’ it’s “Tommy this an’ Tommy that,” an’ anything you please; An’ Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool–you bet that Tommy sees! From: _The Young British Soldier_: When you’re wounded and left on Afghanistan’s plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains An’ go to your God like a soldier. ---
**Author:** ![dropzone](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/dropzone/32/7515_2.png) [@dropzone](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/dropzone)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 5:59am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/22 "2000-06-09T05:59:12Z")
To our Aussie friends, a quick thanks for your help in Nam. It was like you were our only ally. I just barely missed that bit of entertainment, draftwise, but could have gone if I tried. But I didn’t, and no regrets. The mobile Wall is in town. For some reason my oldest wants to see it. For me there are some names that I think are there but I’d just as soon not get confirmation. I prefer to remember them as kids. ---
**Author:** ![chique](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/4491bb/32.png) [@chique](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/chique)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 7:19am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/23 "2000-06-09T07:19:30Z")
Killed in the trenches. DULCE ET DECORUM EST Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like gahs, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. May had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! - An ecstast of fumblin, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime… Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watche the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, - My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. That last line reads “It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country”. When I think of war poetry this and Flanders are one and two on my list. ---
**Author:** ![pepperlandgirl](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/p/f17d59/32.png) [@pepperlandgirl](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/pepperlandgirl)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 7:40am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/24 "2000-06-09T07:40:57Z")
Dammit Sandyr, I just went to find my copy of that poem to post and you beat me to it! ---
**Author:** ![Chief\_Crunch](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/e8c25b/32.png) [@Chief\_Crunch](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Chief_Crunch)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 9:13am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/25 "2000-06-09T09:13:37Z")
Yeah Owen’s Dulce Et Decorum Est was the first poem that popped into my mind when I saw this thread, but I knew someone would have posted it already. ---
**Author:** ![Girlbysea](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/g/c6cbf5/32.png) [@Girlbysea](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Girlbysea)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 10:47am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/26 "2000-06-09T10:47:56Z")
I AM THE FLAG OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. MY NAME IS OLD GLORY.I FLY ATOP THE WORLD’S TALLEST BUILDINGS. I STAND WATCH IN AMERICA’S HALLS OF JUSTICE. I FLY MAJESTICALLY OVER GREAT INSTITUTIONS OF LEARNING. I STAND GUARD WITH THE GREATEST MILITARY POWER IN THE WORLD. LOOK AT ME! I STAND FOR PEACE-HONOR-TRUTH AND JUSTICE. I STAND FOR FREEDOM. I AM CONFIDENT-I AM ARROGANT-I AM PROUD. WHEN I AM FLOWN WITH MY FELLOW BANNERS, MY HEAD IS A LITTLE HIGHER-MY COLORS ARE A LITTLE TRUER-I BOW TO NO ONE! I HAVE FOUGHT IN EVERY BATTLE OF EVERY WAR FOR MORE THAN 200 YEARS: GETTYSBURG, SHILO, APPOMATTOX, SAN JUAN HILL, THE TRENCHES OF FRANCE, THE ARGONNIE FOREST, ANZIO, ROME, THE BEACHES OF NORMANDY, GUAM, OKINAWA, JAPAN, KOREA, VIETNAM, IN THE PERSIAN GULF, AND A SCORE OF PLACES LONG FORGOTTEN BY ALL, BUT THOSE WHO WERE THERE WITH ME… I WAS THERE. I LED MY SOLDIERS, SAILORS, AIRMEN AND MARINES. I FOLLOWED THEM AND WATCHED OVER THEM. THEY LOVED ME. I WAS ON A SMALL HILL IN IWO JIMA, I WAS DIRTY, BATTLE-WORN AND TIRED. BUT MY MARINES CHEERED ME! AND I WAS PROUD! I HAVE BEEN SOILED, BURNED, TORN AND TRAMPLED ON THE STREETS OF COUNTRIES I HAVE HELPED SET FREE. IT DOES NOT HURT- FOR I AM INVINCIBLE. I HAVE BEEN SOILED, BURNED, TORN AND TRAMPLED ON THE STREETS OF MY OWN COUNTRY- AND WHEN IT IS BY THOSE WHOM I HAVE SERVED IN BATTLE WITH- IT HURTS. BUT I SHALL OVERCOME- FOR I AM STRONG! I HAVE SLIPPED THE BONDS OF EARTH AND FROM MY VANTAGE POINT ON THE MOON, I STAND WATCH OVER THE UNCHARTED NEW FRONTIERS OF SPACE. I HAVE BEEN A SILENT WITNESS TO ALL OF AMERICA’S FINEST HOURS. BUT MY FINEST HOUR COMES WHEN I AM TORN IN STRIPS TO BE USED AS BANDAGES FOR MY WOUNDED COMRADES ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE-- WHEN I FLY AT HALF MAST TO HONOR MY SOLDIERS, MY SAILORS, MY AIRMAN, MY MARINES, AND-- WHEN I LIE IN THE TREMBLING ARMS OF A GRIEVING MOTHER, AT THE GRAVESIDE OF HER FALLEN SON OR DAUGHTER– I AM PROUD. MY NAME IS “OLD GLORY” LONG MAY I WAVE DEAR GOD. LONG MAY I WAVE. ---
**Author:** ![Weirddave](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/w/919ad9/32.png) [@Weirddave](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Weirddave)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 4:47pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/27 "2000-06-09T16:47:14Z")
WOW! What a fantastic response to my OP! Thank you all. Since songs have come into the thread, ( And that’s great, what are songs but sung poetry, after all) I’ll share a few favorites. First, Goodnight Saigon, by Billy Joel. I still can’t listen to it without crying: We met as soul mates On Parris Island We left as inmates From an asylum And we were sharp As sharp as knives And we were so gung ho To lay down our lives We came in spastic Like tameless horses We left in plastic As numbered corpses And we learned fast To travel light Our arms were heavy But our bellies were tight We had no home front We had no soft soap They sent us Playboy They gave us Bob Hope We dug in deep And shot on sight And prayed to Jesus Christ With all our might We had no cameras To shoot the landscape We passed the hash pipe And played our Doors tapes And it was dark So dark at night And we held on to each other Like brother to brother We promised our mothers we’d write And we would all go down together We said we’d all go down together Remember Charlie Remember Baker They left their childhood On every acre And who was wrong? And who was right? It didn’t matter in the thick of the fight We held the day In the palm Of our hand They ruled the night And the night Seemed to last as long as six weeks On Parris Island We held the coastline They held the highlands And they were sharp As sharp as knives They heard the hum of our motors They counted the rotors And waited for us to arrive And we would all go down together We said we’d all go down together Yes we would all go down together I’d also like to throw in “God bless the USA” by Lee Greenwood, another song rthat slays me and leaves me bleeding in gratitude by the side of the road. If tomorrow all the things were gone I worked for all my life And I had to start again with just my children and my wife I thank my lucky stars to be living here today Cause the flag still stands for freedom and they can’t take that away ``` And I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me And I gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land, God Bless the USA From the lakes of Minnesota to the hills of Tennessee Cross the plains of Texas, from sea to shining sea From Detroit down to Houston and New York to LA Well there's pride in every American heart And it's time that we stand and say that I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free And I won't forget the men how died who gave that right to me And I gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land, God Bless the USA And I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me And I gladly stand up... next to you... and defend her still today Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land, God Bless the USA ``` ---
**Author:** ![KeithB](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/k/48db29/32.png) [@KeithB](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/KeithB)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 6:06pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/28 "2000-06-09T18:06:36Z")
I like Sting’s “Children’s Crusade”, (On Dream of the Blue Turtles) also about WWI I do not remember it all, but it has the line: The flower of England, Face down in the mud… ---
**Author:** ![Earl\_Snake-Hips\_Tucker](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/earl_snake-hips_tucker/32/3269_2.png) [@Earl\_Snake-Hips\_Tucker](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Earl_Snake-Hips_Tucker)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 6:27pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/29 "2000-06-09T18:27:04Z")
Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to wet Right many a nipperkin! But ranged as infantry And staring face to face I shot at him as he at me And killed him in his place. I shot him dead because– Because he was my foe, Just so: my foe of course he was; That’s clear enough; although He thought he’d 'list, perhaps, Off-hand-like–just as I– Was out of work–had sold his traps– No other reason why. Yes; quaint and curious war is! You shoot a fellow down You’d treat, if met where any bar is, Or help to half-a-crown. ---
**Author:** ![Cervaise](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/cervaise/32/16693_2.png) [@Cervaise](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Cervaise)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 7:00pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/30 "2000-06-09T19:00:36Z")
This is a phenomenal thread. Thanks to everyone who has contributed, even taking away the ones I thought to post. And “Naming of Parts” – truly a remarkable work; I’d never heard of it, and now I’ve got to go look up the writer. Henry Reed, is it? Thanks. To **KeithB:** You can find “Children’s Crusade” here: [http://users.skynet.be/dany/music/sting-crusade.html](http://users.skynet.be/dany/music/sting-crusade.html) Regarding Billy Joel’s “Goodnight Saigon” – Whenever he’s asked about it, he says his friends begged him to write a song about Vietnam, and he always dodged, saying he felt it would be irresponsible of him, not having gone himself. But they insisted, so he talked to his friends and many of their friends who had direct experience, writing down what they said, and then basically arranged their words and set them to music. He’s always said he isn’t really the writer of the song; he’s more of a musical conduit. Great work, and it’s worth noting that it appeared on his album “Nylon Curtain” in 1982, a few years before the national re-examination of Vietnam that really started getting rolling with _Platoon_ and _A Bright Shining Lie_ and such. I’d also like to mention Roger Waters’s “When the Tigers Broke Free,” written for _The Wall_ and included in the film but excluded from the album. It’s about his father, who was at Anzio during World War II. The lyrics are as follows: It was just before dawn One miserable morning In black 'Forty Four When the forward commander Was told to sit tight When he asked that his men be withdrawn. And the Generals gave thanks As the other ranks Held back the enemy tanks for a while. And the Anzio bridgehead Was held for the price Of a few hundred ordinary lives. And kind old King George sent Mother a note When he heard that Father was gone. It was, I recall, In the form of a scroll, With gold leaf and all. And I found it one day In a drawer of old photographs, hidden away. And my eyes still grow damp to remember His Majesty signed with his own Rubber stamp. It was dark all around, there was frost in the ground When the Tigers broke free. And no one survived From the Royal Fusiliers, Company C. They were all left behind, Most of them dead, the rest of them dying. And that’s how the High Command Took my daddy from me. (Quite possibly the most moving song Roger Waters ever wrote…) ---
**Author:** ![Spoke](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/a88e57/32.png) [@Spoke](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Spoke)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 9:24pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/31 "2000-06-09T21:24:32Z")
\*\*Randall Jarrell The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner\*\* ``` From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose. ``` “A ball turret was a Plexiglas sphere set into the belly of a B-17 or B-24, and inhabited by two .50 caliber machine-guns and one man, a short small man. When this gunner tracked with his machine guns a fighter attacking his bomber from below, he revolved with the turret; hunched upside-down in his little sphere, he looked like the foetus in the womb. The fighters which attacked him were armed with cannon firing explosive shells. The hose was a steam hose.” – Jarrell’s note. ---
**Author:** ![Spoke](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/a88e57/32.png) [@Spoke](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Spoke)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 9:33pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/32 "2000-06-09T21:33:07Z")
Here’s Kipling’s tribute to the Sudanese: > [@](#): > > **"Fuzzy-Wuzzy"** > _Soudan Expeditionary Force, Early Campaigns_ > > We’ve fought with many men acrost the seas, > And some of ‘em was brave an’ some was not: > The Paythan an’ the Zulu an’ Burmese; > But the Fuzzy was the finest o’ the lot. > We never got a ha’porth’s change of 'im: > 'E squatted in the scrub and 'ocked our 'orses, > ‘E cut our sentries up at Suakim, > An’ ‘e played the cat an’ banjo with our forces. > So ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ‘ome in the Soudan; > Yore a pore benighted ‘eathen but a first-class fightin’ man; > We gives you your certificate, an’ if you want it signed, > We’ll come an’ 'ave a romp with you whenever you’re inclined. > > We took our chanst among the Kyber ‘ills, > The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, > The Burman guv us Irriwaddy chills, > An’ a Zulu impi dished us up in style: > But all we ever got from such as they > Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; > We ‘eld our bloomin’ own, the papers say, > But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us ‘oller. > Then ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ the missis and the kid: > Our orders was to break you, an’ of course we went an’ did. > We sloshed you with Martinis, an’ it wasn’t ‘ardly fair; > But for all the odds agin’ you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. > > 'E 'asn’t got no papers of 'is own, > 'E 'asn’t got no medals nor rewards, > So we must certify the skill ‘e’s shown > In usin’ of 'is long two-'anded swords: > When ‘e’s ‘oppin’ in an’ out among the bush > With 'is coffin-‘eaded shield an’ shovel-spear, > An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush > Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year. > So ‘ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ your friends which are no > more, > If we ‘adn’t lost some messmates we would ‘elp you to deplore. > But give an’ take’s the gospel, an’ we’ll call the bargain fair, > For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! > > ‘E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, > An’, before we know, 'e’s ‘ackin’ at our 'ead; > ‘E’s all ‘ot sand an’ ginger when alive, > An’ ‘e’s generally shammin’ when 'e’s dead. > 'E’s a daisy, 'e’s a ducky, 'e’s a lamb! > 'E’s a injia-rubber idiot on a spree, > ‘E’s the on’y thing that doesn’t give a damn > For a Regiment o’ British Infantree! > So 'ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ‘ome in the Soudan; > You’re a pore benighted ‘eathen but a first-class fightin’ man; > An’ 'ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of ‘air - > You big black boundin’ beggar - for you broke a British square! (The “square” was a four-sided infantry formation used to great effect by the British Army.) ---
**Author:** ![Necros](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/necros/32/11086_2.png) [@Necros](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Necros)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 9:39pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/33 "2000-06-09T21:39:41Z")
Gee, **spoke-** , I knew I liked you. _Death of the BallTurret Gunner_ is one of my favorite poems period, regarding war or no. ---
**Author:** ![Spoke](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/a88e57/32.png) [@Spoke](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Spoke)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 9:47pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/34 "2000-06-09T21:47:06Z")
And lastly, here’s a ballad sung by Johnny Cash about the indignities suffered by one particular soldier: > [@](#): > > **The Ballad of Ira Hayes** > _Written by Peter LaFarge > Recorded by Johnny Cash on 3/5/64 > Number 3 - Country Chart_ > Ira Hayes, > Ira Hayes > > ``` > CHORUS: > Call him drunken Ira Hayes > He won't answer anymore > Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian > Nor the Marine that went to war > > Gather round me people there's a story I would tell > About a brave young Indian you should remember > well > From the land of the Pima Indian > A proud and noble band > Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land > > Down the ditches for a thousand years > The water grew Ira's peoples' crops > 'Till the white man stole the water rights > And the sparklin' water stopped > > Now Ira's folks were hungry > And their land grew crops of weeds > When war came, Ira volunteered > And forgot the white man's greed > > CHORUS: > Call him drunken Ira Hayes > He won't answer anymore > Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian > Nor the Marine that went to war > > There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill, > Two hundred and fifty men > But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again > > And when the fight was over > And when Old Glory raised > Among the men who held it high > Was the Indian, Ira Hayes > > CHORUS: > Call him drunken Ira Hayes > He won't answer anymore > Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian > Nor the Marine that went to war > > Ira returned a hero > Celebrated through the land > He was wined and speeched and honored; > Everybody shook his hand > > But he was just a Pima Indian > No water, no crops, no chance > At home nobody cared what Ira'd done > And when did the Indians dance > > CHORUS: > Call him drunken Ira Hayes > He won't answer anymore > Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian > Nor the Marine that went to war > > Then Ira started drinkin' hard; > Jail was often his home > They'd let him raise the flag and lower it > like you'd throw a dog a bone! > > He died drunk one mornin' > Alone in the land he fought to save > Two inches of water in a lonely ditch > Was a grave for Ira Hayes > > CHORUS: > Call him drunken Ira Hayes > He won't answer anymore > Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian > Nor the Marine that went to war > > Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes > But his land is just as dry > And his ghost is lyin' thirsty > In the ditch where Ira died > > ``` That line about “two inches of water in a lonely ditch” kills me. The song is based on a true story, by the way. ---
**Author:** ![Spoke](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/a88e57/32.png) [@Spoke](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Spoke)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 9:57pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/35 "2000-06-09T21:57:23Z")
Yeah, **Necros** , that poem’s beauty is in its brevity. What the heck, just one more. This is an **old** one from **Richard Lovelace** (_circa_1649), which touches on the choice between love and duty: > [@](#): > > **TO LUCASTA, Going to the Warres.** > > ``` > I. > > TELL me not (Sweet) I am unkinde, > That from the Nunnerie > Of thy chaste breast, and quiet minde, > To Warre and Armes I flie. > > II. > > True ; a new Mistresse now I chase, > The first Foe in the Field ; > And with a stronger Faith imbrace > A Sword, a Horse, a Shield. > > III. > > Yet this Inconstancy is such, > As you too shall adore ; > I could not love thee (Deare) so much, > Lov'd I not Honour more. > > ``` ---
**Author:** ![xenophon41](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/xenophon41/32/253_2.png) [@xenophon41](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/xenophon41)\ **Post date:** [June 9, 2000, 11:19pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/36 "2000-06-09T23:19:42Z")
One of the most moving I’ve read, and the reason we see poppies as the flower of remembrance on Veterans Day. \*In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders Fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders Fields.\* - John McCrae McCrae was a Brigade surgeon in the Canadian Forces Artillery in WWI. The poem was written shortly after the 2nd Battle of Ypres. Another favorite is from e. e. cummings, a US veteran of the same war. \*i sing of olaf ee cummings i sing of Olaf glad and big whose warmest heart recoiled at war: a conscientious object-or his wellbeloved colonel(trig westpointer most succinctly bred) took erring Olaf soon in hand; but–though an host of overjoyed noncoms(first knocking on the head him)do through icy waters roll that helplessness which others stroke with brushes recently employed anent this muddy toiletbowl, while kindred intellects evoke allegiance per blunt instruments– Olaf(being to all intents a corpse and wanting any rag upon what God unto him gave) responds,without getting annoyed “I will not kiss your fucking flag” straightway the silver bird looked grave (departing hurriedly to shave) but–though all kinds of officers (a yearning nation’s blueeyed pride) their passive prey did kick and curse until for wear their clarion voices and boots were much the worse, and egged the firstclassprivates on his rectum wickedly to tease by means of skilfully applied bayonets roasted hot with heat– Olaf(upon what were once knees) does almost ceaselessly repeat “there is some shit I will not eat” our president,being of which assertions duly notified threw the yellowsonofabitch into a dungeon,where he died Christ(of His mercy infinite) i pray to see;and Olaf,too preponderatingly because unless statistics lie he was more brave than me:more blond than you.\* ---
**Author:** ![KarlGauss](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/karlgauss/32/3713_2.png) [@KarlGauss](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/KarlGauss)\ **Post date:** [June 10, 2000, 2:28am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/37 "2000-06-10T02:28:02Z")
There is a remarkable movie about the (true) story concerning the WWI poets Siegfrid Sassoon and Wilfred Owen called **Regeneration**. Those interested in this thread will surely find it worth viewing. You can learn more about it at [http://us.imdb.com/Details?0120001](http://us.imdb.com/Details?0120001) ---
**Author:** ![bradysg](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/9fc348/32.png) [@bradysg](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/bradysg)\ **Post date:** [June 10, 2000, 3:37am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/38 "2000-06-10T03:37:06Z")
“Regeneration”, about Sassoon and Owen is also a book. It was assigned reading for english class this year. I enjoyed it, but wondered why it was required when the class completely skipped over Sassoon during the course. Someone already posted my two original choices, “Charge of the Light Brigade,” and “The Man He Killed.” Therefore, in keeping with the OP and honoring my Irish heritage, I choose William Butler Yeats’ “An Irish Airman Forsees His Death” (circa WWI) I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan’s Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death. and also Wilfred Owen’s “Anthem for a 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 now for them; no prayers nor 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 shine The holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds. For more poems about death and dying, consult your local library, or: [http://phobos.astro.uwo.ca/~sshorlin/poets.html](http://phobos.astro.uwo.ca/~sshorlin/poets.html) bradysg ---
**Author:** ![Apollyon](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/apollyon/32/4238_2.png) [@Apollyon](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Apollyon)\ **Post date:** [June 10, 2000, 11:19am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/39 "2000-06-10T11:19:44Z")
> [@](#): > > \*\* > I’d also like to mention Roger Waters’s “When the Tigers Broke Free,” … Quite possibly the most moving song Roger Waters ever wrote…) > \*\* Excellent, thank you Cervaise. I was listening to _The Final Cut_ just today and thought about that song. It is a great pity that it was left off the album of _The Wall_ – it is my favourite part of the movie. ---
**Author:** ![ndorward](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/n/c2a13f/32.png) [@ndorward](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/ndorward)\ **Post date:** [June 10, 2000, 7:52pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727/40 "2000-06-10T19:52:29Z")
Hm: I’m a little puzzled here by the various admirations expressed–ranging from poems supporting war to poems against it. I note that Fussell’s book has been (justly) praised in this thread, & I’d direct admirers of John McCrae’s poem to that book for a dissection of its message–its call to arms in the last stanza, which reveals that the dignified elegy of the first stanza has a more narrowly propagandistic aim. Surely the patriotic message of the poem is directly contradicted by Owen’s “Dulce et Decorum Est”, so when a poster singles out those two poems for joint praise I’m left rather puzzled. Without necessarily downgrading the achievement of Owen, Sassoon &c I’d like to suggest that the most important English poets of the Great War were Ivor Gurney & David Jones–also toss in a few poems of Isaac Rosenberg, like “Dead Man’s Dump”. And the most important poet of WW2 is surely Keith Douglas (1920-44): his prose account _Alamein to Zem Zem_ is also highly worth reading. I’ll type in one poem by Douglas, “Dead Men”: DEAD MEN Tonight the moon inveigles them to love: they infer from her gaze her tacit encouragement. Tonight the white dresses and the jasmin scent in the streets. I in another place see the white dresses glimmer like moths. Come to the west, out of that trance, my heart– here the same hours have illumined sleepers who are condemned or reprieved and those whom their ambitions have deceived; the dead men, whom the wind powders till they are like dolls: they tonight rest in the sanitary earth perhaps or where they died, no one has found them or in their shallow graves the wild dog discovered and exhumed a face or a leg for food: the human virtue round them is a vapour tasteless to a dog’s chops. All that is good of them, the dog consumes. You would not know, now the mind’s flame is gone, more than the dog knows: you would forget but that you see your own mind burning yet and till you stifle in the ground will go on burning the economical coal of your dreams. Then leave the dead in the earth, an organism not capable of resurrection, like mines, less durable than the metal of a gun, a casual meal for a dog, nothing but the bone so soon. But tonight no lovers see the lines of the moon’s face as the lines of cynicism. And the wise man is the lover who in his planetary love revolves without the traction of reason or time’s control and the wild dog finding meat in a hole is a philosopher. The prudent mind resolves on the lover’s or the dog’s attitude for ever. all best --N [Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727.md?page=1) [Next page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/poems-about-war/21727.md?page=3)