Post by Administrator on Nov 11, 2020 4:26:10 GMT
Gas / Posted missing
GAS
How quietly he cleared the sandbags,
Along the fire step came creeping,
Sliding along the duckboards,
Into the very mugmire seeping.
He was Death, him, who choaked the sentry,
And stole past behind his vail of green,
It was he who blanketed three sleeping lads,
And suffocated them mid-dream.
Death came in that tranquil mist,
Like an algae fog from the Hebrides,
And touched here, and touched there,
And fled like a thief on the freshening breeze.
Ian Adrian Millar
For Davie Clarkson and others at Linburn, the Scottish National Institution for War Blinded.
POSTED MISSING
They've won a great though costly fight,
So the morning papers say,
No lists of men are posted yet,
Lost in the distant fray.
But word will cross the Channel Gray,
To country town and city too,
And sad the hearts who find loved names,
Of kin who's life is through.
It's winter now, the bleak and cold,
Every nich so dark and gray,
But spring will come with crocus bloom,
At home and far away.
Ian Adrian Millar
For those who did not come home, who made the supreme sacrifice on land, in the air, and upon the seas.
GAS
How quietly he cleared the sandbags,
Along the fire step came creeping,
Sliding along the duckboards,
Into the very mugmire seeping.
He was Death, him, who choaked the sentry,
And stole past behind his vail of green,
It was he who blanketed three sleeping lads,
And suffocated them mid-dream.
Death came in that tranquil mist,
Like an algae fog from the Hebrides,
And touched here, and touched there,
And fled like a thief on the freshening breeze.
Ian Adrian Millar
For Davie Clarkson and others at Linburn, the Scottish National Institution for War Blinded.
POSTED MISSING
They've won a great though costly fight,
So the morning papers say,
No lists of men are posted yet,
Lost in the distant fray.
But word will cross the Channel Gray,
To country town and city too,
And sad the hearts who find loved names,
Of kin who's life is through.
It's winter now, the bleak and cold,
Every nich so dark and gray,
But spring will come with crocus bloom,
At home and far away.
Ian Adrian Millar
For those who did not come home, who made the supreme sacrifice on land, in the air, and upon the seas.