by Ivor Gurney
Living we loved you, yet withheld our praises
Before your faces.
And though our spirits had you high in honour!
After the English manner,
We said no word. Yet as such comrades would,
Such friendship is not touched by death's disaster,
But stands the faster.
And all the shocks and trials of time cannot
Shake it one jot.
Beside the fire at night some far
December We shall remember
And tell men unbegotten as yet the story
Of your sad glory.
Of your plain strength, your truth of heart, your splendid
Coolness - all ended…
All ended! Yet the aching hearts of lovers
Glad in their sorrow, hoping that if they must
Come to the dust,
An ending such as yours may be their portion
And great good fortune.
That if we may not live to serve in peace
England-watching increase -
Then death with you, honoured and swift and high,
And so - Not Die
Last updated July 01, 2015