Poems about soldier
The Years
i can wade grief
then i turn soldier too,
oh, wouldn't you?
how could i of him?
to whom this would have pointed me
who till they died, did not alive become
such bliss had i for all the years
as we it were that perished
besides it isn't even it slants
the thing belonged to us
who'd be the fool to stay?
Among Bare Maple Boughs, And One Thing More
among bare maple boughs, and in the rare
first soldier, and then poet, and then both,
and eased his heavy breathing, but still slept,
expressed them, and its curves were no false curves
further o�erhead than all but stars and angels,�
for still others they found,
and one thing more that was not then to say,
they cannot mean to plant it, no
i brought not here to read, it seems, but hold
or so the story goes, it was some girl,
First Soldier, And Then Poet, And Then Poet,
first soldier, and then poet, and then both,
for heaven and the future's sakes,
and tenderly, life's little dream,
though chill, because the fields were ours,
The Dark Of The Pleasure Of Ether,
wild, earily shattered rose,
autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
first soldier, and then poet, and then both,
but the secret sits in the middle and knows,
the doctor put him in the dark of ether,
that fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
the measure of the little while