The Deserter by Winifred Mary Letts
There was a man, – don’t mind his name, Whom Fear had dogged by night and day. He could not face the German guns And so he turned and ran away. Just that – he turned and ran away, But who can judge him, you or I ? God makes a man of flesh and […]
The Connaught Rangers by Winifred Mary Letts
I SAW the Connaught Rangers when they were passing by, On a spring day, a good day, with gold rifts in the sky. Themselves were marching steadily along the Liffey quay An’ I see the young proud look of them as if it were to-day! The bright lads, the right lads, I have them in […]
The Call To Arms In Our Street by Winifred Mary Letts
There’s a woman sobs her heart out, With her head against the door, For the man that’s called to leave her, – God have pity on the poor! But its beat, drums, beat While the lads march down the street, And its blow, trumpets blow, Keep your tears until they go. There’s a crowd of […]
Synge’s Grave by Winifred Mary Letts
MY grief! that they have laid you in the town Within the moidher of its thousand wheels And busy feet that travel up and down. They had a right to choose a better bed Far off among the hills where silence steals In on the soul with comfort-bringing tread. The curlew would have keened for […]
Screens (In a Hospital) by Winifred Mary Letts
They put the screens around his bed; a crumpled heap I saw him lie, White counterpane and rough dark head, those screens – they showed that he would die. The put the screens about his bed; We might not play the gramophone, And so we played at cards instead And left him dying there alone. […]
Easter Snow by Winifred Mary Letts
My jewel of the world, she sleeps so fast, She will not hear you, Spring wind, if you blow; So let you shake the blossoms of the thorn Till her bed is hidden deep in Easter snow. Bright jewel of my heart, she sleeps at last, O kind earth, wrap her round in your brown […]
Chaplain To The Forces by Winifred Mary Letts
Ambassador of Christ you go Up to the very gates of Hell, Through fog of powder, storm of shell, To speak your Master’s message: “Lo, The Prince of Peace is with you still, His peace be with you, His good-will.” It is not small, your priesthood’s price. To be a man and yet stand by, […]
Casualty by Winifred Mary Letts
John Delaney of the Rifles has been shot. A man we never knew, Does it cloud the day for you That he lies among the dead Moving, hearing, heeding not? No history will hold his humble name. No sculptured stone will tell The traveller where he fell; That he lies among the dead Is the […]
And She is Spoke by Winifred Mary Letts
I’VE heard a half a dozen times Folks call it Reims. That isn’t right, though, so it seems, Perhaps it’s Reims. Poor city ruined now by flames– Can it be Reims?– That once was one of France’s gems- More likely Reims. I’ll get it right sometime, perchance I’m told it’s Reims. ————— The End And […]
A Dog’s Grave by Winifred Mary Letts
He sleeps where he would wish, in easy call, Here in a primrose nook beside the wall. And near the gate, that he may guard us all Even in death, our faithful seneschal. I do not think the courteous Cherubim Will chide him if he waits, nor Seraphim Summon him hence till we may follow […]