Siegfried Sassoon: Всі вірші поета

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In Me, Past, Present, Future meet

In me, past, present, future meet

To hold long chiding conference.

My lusts usurp the present tense

And strangle Reason in his seat.

My loves leap through the future’s fence

To dance with dream-enfranchised feet.

In me the cave-man clasps the seer,

And garlanded Apollo goes

Siegfried Sassoon

Attack

AT dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun

In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun,

Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud

The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one,

Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire.

The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed

With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear,

Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire.

Siegfried Sassoon

The Redeemer

Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep;

It was past twelve on a mid-winter night,

When peaceful folk in beds lay snug asleep;

There, with much work to do before the light,

We lugged our clay-sucked boots as best we might

Along the trench; sometimes a bullet sang,

And droning shells burst with a hollow bang;

We were soaked, chilled and wretched, every one;

Siegfried Sassoon

I Stood With The Dead

I Stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still:

When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead.

And my slow heart said, 'You must kill, you must kill:

'Soldier, soldier, morning is red'.

On the shapes of the slain in their crumpled disgrace

I stared for a while through the thin cold rain…

'O lad that I loved, there is rain on your face,

'And your eyes are blurred and sick like the plain.'

Siegfried Sassoon

Wirers

‘Pass it along, the wiring party’s going out’—

And yawning sentries mumble, ‘Wirers going out.’

Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud,

They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood.

The Boche sends up a flare. Black forms stand rigid there,

Stock-still like posts; then darkness, and the clumsy ghosts

Stride hither and thither, whispering, tripped by clutching snare

Siegfried Sassoon

The Imperfect Lover

I never asked you to be perfect—did I?—

Though often I’ve called you sweet, in the invasion

Of mastering love. I never prayed that you

Might stand, unsoiled, angelic and inhuman,

Pointing the way toward Sainthood like a sign-post.

Oh yes, I know the way to heaven was easy.

We found the little kingdom of our passion

Siegfried Sassoon

The Poet As Hero

You've heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented,

Mocking and loathing War: you've asked me why

Of my old, silly sweetness I've repented—

My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry.

You are aware that once I sought the Grail,

Riding in armour bright, serene and strong;

And it was told that through my infant wail

There rose immortal semblances of song.

Siegfried Sassoon

The Kiss

To these I turn, in these I trust;

Brother Lead and Sister Steel.

To his blind power I make appeal;

I guard her beauty clean from rust.

He spins and burns and loves the air,

And splits a skull to win my praise;

But up the noble marching days

She glitters naked, cold and fair.

Siegfried Sassoon

The Dug-out

Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,

And one arm bent across your sullen, cold,

Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,

Deep-shadowed from the candle's guttering gold;

And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;

Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head…

You are too young to fall asleep for ever;

And when you sleep you remind me of the dead.

Siegfried Sassoon

A Letter Home

(To Robert Graves)

Here I'm sitting in the gloom

Of my quiet attic room.

France goes rolling all around,

Fledged with forest May has crowned.

And I puff my pipe, calm-hearted,

Thinking how the fighting started,

Siegfried Sassoon

Died Of Wounds

His wet white face and miserable eyes

Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:

But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell

His troubled voice: he did the business well.

The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining

And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood!

‘It’s time to go. O Christ, and what’s the good?

Siegfried Sassoon

Counter-Attack

We’d gained our first objective hours before

While dawn broke like a face with blinking eyes,

Pallid, unshaved and thirsty, blind with smoke.

Things seemed all right at first. We held their line,

With bombers posted, Lewis guns well placed,

And clink of shovels deepening the shallow trench.

The place was rotten with dead; green clumsy legs

High-booted, sprawled and grovelled along the saps

Siegfried Sassoon