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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357431" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Armistice: To His Dead Cobber From The Sentimental Bloke</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'm sittin' 'ere, Mick - sittin' 'ere today, <br>Feelin' 'arf glum, 'arf sorter - reverent, <br>Thinkin' strange, crooked thorts of 'ow they say: <br>'The 'eads is bowed thro' all a continent'; <br>An' wond'rin - wond'rin 'in a kind of doubt <br>If other coves is feelin' like I do, <br>Tryin' to figure wot it's all about, <br>An' - if it's meanin' anythin' to you. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence... The hour strikes soon thro' all the land <br>An 'eads bend low. Old mate, give me your 'and. <br>Silence - for you, Mick, an' for blokes like you <br>To mark the Day - the Day you never knoo. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Day you never knoo, nor we forget... <br>I can't tell why I'm sittin' 'ere this way, <br>Scrawlin' a message that you'll never get - <br>Or will you? I dunno. It's 'ard to say. <br>P'raps you'll know all about it, where you are, <br>An' think, 'Ah, well, they ain't too bad a lot.' <br>An' tell them other digs up on your star <br>That now, or nevermore, they ain't fergot. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence... Not ere alone, Mick - everywhere - <br>In city an' in country 'eads are bare. <br>An', in this room, it seems as if l knoo <br>Some friend 'oo came - Ole cobber! Is it you? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Me 'eart is full, <br>Mick... 'Struth! I ain't the bloke, <br>As you well know, to go all soft an' wet. <br>Fair's fair, lad. Times I've known when you 'ave spoke <br>Like you was tough an' 'ard as 'ell - an' yet <br>Somethin' be'ind your bluff an' swagger bold <br>Showed all them narsty sentiments was kid. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was that thing inside yeh, lad, wot told. <br>It made you go an' do the thing you did. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence... There's mothers, Mick. You never knoo <br>No mother. But they're prayin' for you too. <br>In every heart - The Boys! The Boys are there, <br>The Boys... That very name, lad, is a pray'r. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Boys! Old cobber, I can see 'em still: <br>The drums are rollin' an' the sunlight gleams <br>On bay'nits. Men are marchin' with a will <br>On to the glory of their boy'ood's dreams. <br>Glory? You never found it that, too much. <br>But, lad, you stuck it - stuck it with the rest, <br>An' if your bearin' 'ad no soulful touch, <br>'Twas for OUR souls that you went marchin' - West. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence... The children too, Mick - little kids, <br>Are standin'. Not becos their teacher bids: <br>They've knoo no war; but they 'ave stopped their play <br>Becos they know, they feel it is The Day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So may it be thro' all the comin' years. <br>But sorrow's gone, lad. It's not that we know. <br>The sobbin's passed, 'ole cobber, an' the tears, <br>An' well we un'erstand you'd 'ave it so. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But somethin' deeper far than that 'as come, <br>Somethin' a mind can't get within its bound, <br>Somethin' l can't explain. A man is dumb <br>When 'e thinks... Listen! 'Ear the bugles sound! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">* * * * </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, Mick, ole cock, I dunno why I've wrote, <br>It's just to ease a thing inside wot says <br>'Sit down, you sloppy coot, an' write a note <br>To that ole cobber of the olden days. <br>'E'll know - for sure 'e'll know'. 'So, lad, it's done, <br>Work's waitin', an' a man can't get in wrong: <br>Our goal is still ahead. But yours is won: <br>That's the one thing we know, lad, an - So long. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silence... It's over, Mick; so there you are. <br>I know you're 'appy up there on yer star. <br>Believe us, lad; that star shall never fall <br>While one is left to say, 'Gawd keep 'em all!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357431" data-title="Armistice: To His Dead Cobber From The Sentimental Bloke de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="I'm sittin' 'ere, Mick - sittin' 'ere today, 
Feelin' 'arf glum, 'arf sorter - reverent, 
Thinkin' strange, crooked thorts of 'ow they say: 
'The 'eads is bowed thro' all a continent'; 
An' wond'rin - wond'rin 'in a kind of doubt 
If other coves i..."></div>
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