1915

Robert Graves

Ive watched the Seasons passing slow, so slow,
In the fields between La Basse and Bethune;
Primroses and the first warm day of Spring,
Red poppy floods of June,
August, and yellowing Autumn, so
To Winter nights knee-deep in mud or snow,
And youve been everything.

Dear, youve been everything that I most lack
In these soul-deadening trenchespictures, books,
Music, the quiet of an English wood,
Beautiful comrade-looks,
The narrow, bouldered mountain-track,
The broad, full-bosomed ocean, green and black,
And Peace, and all thats good.

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