The War Poet

        The War Poet

“a rich nature … fighting eagerly towards the truth.”

 

“I have a rendezvous with death

                  At some disputed barricade” ~ Alan Seeger

Alan Seeger 

Not all war poets are the same as Brooke.

Not all are like a cabinet display

Of Royal Worcester china in a nook,

A corner of his mother’s lounge in gray

Light, George in distant London on the throne,

Some, gung ho patriots, or others skilled

In truth, some full of agony and groan.

Most beautiful of all was Rupert, killed

Before Gallipoli, before he saw

The facts of bayonets and bullets, gas,

Bombardment, blasted brains, the cannon’s maw,

Or murder’s shine on casings made of brass.

In innocence he sailed to meet his fate.

He did not know of Seeger’s barbed wire weight.

Phillip Whidden