TRUCE

Far inland here Death's pinions mocked the roar

Of English seas;

We sleep to wake no more,

Hushed, and at ease;

Till sound a trump, shore on to echoing shore,

Rouse from a peace, unwonted then to war,

Us and our enemies.

Collected Poems 1901-1918 in Two Volumes. Volume I. · 第 32 / 165 题