At The Graves (1914-1918) Poem by Sheena Blackhall
At The Graves (1914-1918)
And so we come, well-heeled, well-fed
Suitably somber and composed
Talking above the graves of the numbered dead
The sleepers are deaf and dumb
And who would wish to rouse them
Out of the numb bliss of amnesia?
A battlefield's a living charnel house
But here they can be again
The baker, the tailor, the clerk, the scholar, the rake
Oh let them lie unstirred, for pity's sake
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5/4/2024 6:20:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
