Ewart Alan Mackintosh

Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems

On Vimy Ridge four months ago
We lived and fought, my friends and I,
And watched the kindly dawn come slow,
Peace bringing from the eastern sky.
...

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward —
'That is, unless some damned
Airman has blundered,
If the map isn't right
We'll be a funny sight.'
So as they tramped along
...

The air is still, the light winds blow
Too quietly to wake you now.
Dreamer, you dream too well to know
'Whose hand set death upon your brow,
...

So I shall never see you more.
The northern winds will blow in vain
Brave and heart-easing off the shore.
You will not sail with them again.
...

In the Glen where I was young
Blue-bell stems stood close together,
In the evenings dew-drops hung
Clear as glass above the heather.
...

City of hopes and golden dreaming
Set with a crown of tall grey towers,
City of mist that round you streaming
Screens the vision of vanished hours,
...

Beyond the woodland's shading,
Beyond the sun-kissed field,
Where laughs in joy unfading
...

Along the dusty highway,
And through the little town,
The people of the country
Are riding up and down.
...

The hedge on the left, and the trench on the right,
And the whispering, rustling wood between,
And who knows where in the wood to-night
Death or capture may lurk unseen.
...

The tattered grass of No Man's Land
Is white with snow to-day,
And up and down the deadly slopes
The ghosts of childhood play.
...

In Oxford now the lamps are lit.
The city bells ring low,
And up and down the silent town
The ghosts of friendship go.
...

When you and I are buried
With grasses over head,
The memory of our fights will stand
Above this bare and tortured land,
We knew ere we were dead.
...

Gone is now the boast of power,
Strength to strike our foes again,
God of battles in this hour
...

Here in the narrow broken way
Where silently we go.
Steadfast above their valiant clay
Forgotten crosses show.
...

When our men are marching lightly up and down,
When the pipes are playing through the little town,
I see a thin line swaying through wind and mud and rain
And the broken regiments come back to rest again.
...

If I die to-morrow
I shall go happily.
With the flush of battle on my face
I shall walk with an eager pace
The road I cannot see.
...

As I go down the highway,
And through the village street,
I hear the pipers playing
And the tramp of marching feet.
...

The clouds are in the sky, and a light rain falling,
And through the sodden trench splashed figures come and go,
But deep in my heart are the old years calling.
And memory is on me of the things I used to know.
...

Where the light wraith of death goes dancing
In and out of the wavering line,
Now retreating and now advancing
Till opposite you he makes the sign,
...

Under the sky of battle, under the arch of the guns,
Where in a mad red torrent the river of fighting runs.
Where the shout of a strong man sounds no more than a broken groan,
And the heart of a man rejoicing stands up in its strength alone,
...

Ewart Alan Mackintosh Biography

Lieutenant Ewart Alan Mackintosh MC (4 March 1893 – 23 November 1917) was a war poet and an officer in the Seaforth Highlanders from December 1914. Mackintosh was killed whilst observing the second day of the second Battle of Cambrai, 21 November 1917. His best poetry has been said to be comparable in quality to that of Rupert Brooke. His poetry has been said to have been as good as the more famous war poet Rupert Brooke. Lines from his poem "A Creed" are used on "The Call"; the Scottish American war memorial in Edinburgh's Princes Street Gardens when it was installed in 1927. The memorial was paid for by Scottish Americans to commemorate the bravery of the Scottish soldiers of the Great War. A small ceremony took place in France on the 90th anniversary of Mackintosh's death and there were plans to dedicate a chapel to him and his regiment.)

The Best Poem Of Ewart Alan Mackintosh

On Vimy Ridge

On Vimy Ridge four months ago
We lived and fought, my friends and I,
And watched the kindly dawn come slow,
Peace bringing from the eastern sky.
Now I sit in a quiet town
Remembering how I used to go
Among the dug-outs up and down,
On Vimy Ridge four months ago.

And often sitting here I've seen,
As then I saw them every night,
The friendly faces tired and keen
Across the flickering candle-light,
And heard their laughter gay and clear,
And watched the fires of courage glow
Above the scattered ash of fear,
On Vimy Ridge four months ago.

Oh, friends of mine, where are you now?
Somewhere beneath the troubled sky,
With earth above the quiet brow,
Reader and Stalk for ever lie.
But dead or living out or here
I see the friends I used to know,
And hear the laughter gay and clear,
On Vimy Ridge four months ago.

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