from 1915: The Trenches
V
We are tired, we have thought all this before,
We have seen it all, and thought it all.
We have tried to forget, we have tried to change,
We have struggled to climb an invisible wall,
But if we should climb it, could we ever return?
We have known it all, and felt it all
Till we can know no more . . .
Let us climb out and end it, then,
Lest it become immortal.
Let us climb out and end it, then,
Just for the change . . .
This is the same night, still, and you, and I,
Struggling to keep our feet in a chaos of sound.
And the same puff of smoke
Passes, to leave the same stars in the sky.
VI
Out there, in the moonlight,
How still in the grass they lie,
Those who panted beside us, or stumbled before us,
Those who yelled like madmen and ran at the sun,
Flinging their guns before them.
One of them stares all day at the sky
As if he had seen some strange thing there,
One of them tightly holds his gun
As if he dreaded a danger there,
One of them stoops above his friend,
By moon and sun we see him there.
One of them saw white cottage walls
With purple clematis flowers and leaves,
And heard through trees his waterfalls
And whistled under the eaves;
One of them walked on yellow sand
And watched a young girl gathering shells –
Once, a white wave caught her hand . . .
One of them heard how certain bells
Chimed in a valley, mellow and slow,
Just as he turned to go . . .
VII
All night long, all night long,
We see them and do not remember them,
We hear the terrible sounds of guns,
We see the white rays darting and darting,
We are beaten down and crawl to our feet,
We wipe the dirt from mouths and eyes,
Dust-coloured animals creeping in dust,
Animals stupefied by sound;
We are beaten down, and some of us rise,
And some become a part of the ground,
But what do we care? We never knew them,
Or if we did it was long ago . . .
Night will end in a year or so,
We look at each other as if to say,
Across the void of time between us,
'Will the word come to-day?'
~~
Conrad Aiken (1889-1973)
from Nocturne of Remembered Spring, and other poems, 1915
[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]
Read the complete poem here.
Conrad Aiken biography
V
We are tired, we have thought all this before,
We have seen it all, and thought it all.
We have tried to forget, we have tried to change,
We have struggled to climb an invisible wall,
But if we should climb it, could we ever return?
We have known it all, and felt it all
Till we can know no more . . .
Let us climb out and end it, then,
Lest it become immortal.
Let us climb out and end it, then,
Just for the change . . .
This is the same night, still, and you, and I,
Struggling to keep our feet in a chaos of sound.
And the same puff of smoke
Passes, to leave the same stars in the sky.
VI
Out there, in the moonlight,
How still in the grass they lie,
Those who panted beside us, or stumbled before us,
Those who yelled like madmen and ran at the sun,
Flinging their guns before them.
One of them stares all day at the sky
As if he had seen some strange thing there,
One of them tightly holds his gun
As if he dreaded a danger there,
One of them stoops above his friend,
By moon and sun we see him there.
One of them saw white cottage walls
With purple clematis flowers and leaves,
And heard through trees his waterfalls
And whistled under the eaves;
One of them walked on yellow sand
And watched a young girl gathering shells –
Once, a white wave caught her hand . . .
One of them heard how certain bells
Chimed in a valley, mellow and slow,
Just as he turned to go . . .
VII
All night long, all night long,
We see them and do not remember them,
We hear the terrible sounds of guns,
We see the white rays darting and darting,
We are beaten down and crawl to our feet,
We wipe the dirt from mouths and eyes,
Dust-coloured animals creeping in dust,
Animals stupefied by sound;
We are beaten down, and some of us rise,
And some become a part of the ground,
But what do we care? We never knew them,
Or if we did it was long ago . . .
Night will end in a year or so,
We look at each other as if to say,
Across the void of time between us,
'Will the word come to-day?'
~~
Conrad Aiken (1889-1973)
from Nocturne of Remembered Spring, and other poems, 1915
[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]
Read the complete poem here.
Conrad Aiken biography
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