Danielle's WWI Poetry Blog

Osbert Sitwell "Peace Celebration" by Osbert Sitwell Now we can say of those who died unsung, Unwept for, torn, ‘Thank God they were not blind Or mad! They’ve perished strong and young, Missing the misery we elders find In missing them.’ With such a platitude We try to cheer ourselves. And for each life Laid down for us, with duty well-imbued, With song-on-lip, in splendid soldier strife – For sailors, too, who willingly were sunk – We’ll shout ‘Hooray!’ –                                     And get a little drunk. “Peace Celebration” by Osbert Sitwell is – in my opinion – an odd poem. The title of the poem is fitting, because the poem describes the celebration of the war’s end, but what is shocking is that the poem seems to be a celebration of death more than the celebration of an end to years of suffering. Sitwell say...

  Ruth Comfort Mitchell He Went for a Soldier by Ruth Comfort Mitchell He  marched away with a blithe young score of him With the first volunteers, Clear-eyed and clean and sound to the core of him, Blushing under the cheers. They were fine, new flags that swung a-flying there, Oh, the pretty girls he glimpsed a-crying there, Pelting him with pinks and with roses Billy, the Soldier Boy! Not very clear in the kind young heart of him What the fuss was about, But the flowers and the flags seemed part of him -- The music drowned his doubt. It's a fine, brave sight they were a-coming there To the gay, bold tune they kept a-drumming there, While the boasting fifes shrilled jauntily -- Billy, the Soldier Boy! Soon he is one with the blinding smoke of it -- Volley and curse and groan: Then he has done with the knightly joke of it -- It's rending flesh and bone. There are pain-crazed animals a-shrieking there And a warm blood stench that is a-reeking there; He fights like a rat in a co...