War is Kind / Stephen Crane

from War is Kind and Other Lines

I

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment,
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die.
The unexplained glory flies above them,
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom —
A field where a thousand corpses lie.

Do not weep, babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

Swift blazing flag of the regiment,
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die.
Point for them the virtue of slaughter,
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.

Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

~~
Stephen Crane (1871-1900)
from War is Kind, and other lines, 1899

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Stephen Crane biography

The Stretcher-Bearer / Robert Service

 
The Stretcher-Bearer

My stretcher is one scarlet stain,
And as I tries to scrape it clean,
I tell you wot — I'm sick with pain
For all I've 'eard, for all I've seen;
Around me is the 'ellish night,
And as the war's red rim I trace,
I wonder if in 'Eaven's height,
Our God don't turn away 'Is Face.

          I don't care 'oose the Crime may be;
          I 'olds no brief for kin or clan;
          I 'ymns no 'ate: I only see
          As man destroys his brother man;
          I waves no flag: I only know,
          As 'ere beside the dead I wait,
          A million 'earts is weighed with woe,
          A million 'omes is desolate.

In drippin' darkness, far and near,
All night I've sought them woeful ones.
Dawn shudders up and still I 'ear
The crimson chorus of the guns.
Look! like a ball of blood the sun
'Angs o'er the scene of wrath and wrong.
"Quick! Stretcher-bearers on the run!"
O Prince of Peace! 'Ow long, 'ow long?

---
Robert Service
from Rhymes of a Red Cross Man, 1916

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Robert Service biography

Remembrance / George J. Dance

     
Remembrance

Man has but to raise
His arms, and there is a cross.
How could we forget?

~~
George J. Dance, 2010

from Logos, and other logoi, 2021

Michael Schmalenstroer, Crosses at the Cemetery, Summer 2009.

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons. Licensed with GFDL and Creative Commons CC-BY-SA-3.0

[Remembrance by George Dance is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 2.5 license] 

George J. Dance biography

The Anxious Dead / John McCrae

 
The Anxious Dead

O guns, fall silent till the dead men hear
    Above their heads the legions pressing on:
(These fought their fight in time of bitter fear,
    And died not knowing how the day had gone.)

O flashing muzzles, pause, and let them see
    The coming dawn that streaks the sky afar;
Then let your mighty chorus witness be
    To them, and Caesar, that we still make war.

Tell them, O guns, that we have heard their call,
    That we have sworn, and will not turn aside,
That we will onward till we win or fall,
    That we will keep the faith for which they died.

Bid them be patient, and some day, anon,
    They shall feel earth enwrapt in silence deep;
Shall greet, in wonderment, the quiet dawn,
    And in content may turn them to their sleep.

---
John McCrae (1872-1918)
from In Flanders Fields and other poems, 1919

[All rights reserved by the author's estate - Please do not copy]

John McCrae biography

When It Is Finished / Marjorie Pickthall

 
When It Is Finished

When it is finished, Father, and we set
The war-stained buckler and the bright blade by,
Bid us remember then what bloody sweat,
What thorns, what agony
Purchased our wreaths of harvest and ripe ears,
Whose empty hands, whose empty hearts, whose tears
Ransomed the days to be.

We leave them to Thee, Father, we’ve no price,
No utmost treasure of the seas and lands,
No words, no deeds, to pay their sacrifice.
Only while England stands,
Their pearl, their pride, their altar,— not their grave,—
Bid us remember in what days they gave
All that mankind may give
That we might live.

~~
Marjorie L.C. Pickthall
from Selected Poems, 1957

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada]

Marjorie Pickthall biography

Call Back Our Dead / Frederick George Scott

 
Call Back Our Dead

Call back our Dead — the fateful feud is o'er;
    Call back our Dead; we need them here today.
    We need them in their freshness and their play,
Their valiant manhood ripened by the war.
Our hearts stand open; open, too, the door
    Of that still chamber where the shadow lay
    Since death's grim message came. No other ray
But their bright presence can the light restore.

Call back our Dead, they die each day we live —
    Deep in our hearts they die the whole day long.
        Call back our Dead, the welcoming hearth is bright,
All that this life can give them, we will give.
    Tell them God's angels sing again their song
        And Peace hangs out her star upon the night.

--
Frederick George Scott (1861-1944)
November 11, 1925
from Selected Poems, 1933

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]

Frederick George Scott biography

The Ghost-yard of the Goldenrod / Bliss Carman

 
The Ghost-yard of the Goldenrod

When the first silent frost has trod
The ghost-yard of the goldenrod,

And laid the blight of his cold hand
Upon the warm autumnal land,

And all things wait the subtle change
That men call death, is it not strange

That I — without a care or need,
Who only am an idle weed —

Should wait unmoved, so frail, so bold,
The coming of the final cold!

~~
Bliss Carman (1861-1929)
from Later Poems, 1926

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the European Union]

Bliss Carman biography