Edmund Blunden Poems
|3.||The Giant Puff-Ball||4/3/2010|
|6.||The Zonnebeke Road||4/3/2010|
|7.||Concert Party: Busseboom||4/3/2010|
|8.||The Poor Man's Pig||4/3/2010|
|9.||A Country God||4/3/2010|
|14.||The Ancre At Hamel: Afterwards||4/3/2010|
|15.||Vlamertinghe: Passing The Chateau||1/3/2003|
|16.||The Child's Grave||4/3/2010|
|17.||Can You Remember?||4/3/2010|
|18.||Chinese Paper Knife||11/19/2003|
|20.||At Senlis Once||1/3/2003|
|23.||The Midnight Skaters||1/3/2003|
|25.||1916 Seen From 1921||1/3/2003|
|26.||Preparations For Victory||1/3/2003|
|27.||Report On Experience||1/3/2003|
Report On Experience
I have been young, and now am not too old;
And I have seen the righteous forsaken,
His health, his honour and his quality taken.
This is not what we were formerly told.
I have seen a green country, useful to the race,
Knocked silly with guns and mines, its villages vanished,
Even the last rat and the last kestrel banished -
God bless us all, this was peculiar grace.
I knew Seraphina; Nature gave her hue,
Glance, sympathy, note, like one from Eden.
I saw her smile warp, heard her lyric deaden;
She turned to harlotry; - this I took to be new.
Is not this enough for moan
To see this babe all motherless -
A babe beloved - thrust out alone
Upon death's wilderness?
Out tears fall, fall, fall - I would weep
My blood away to make her warm,
Who never went on earth one step,
Nor heard the breath of the storm.
How shall you go, my little child,