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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365880" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Angel of Mons</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He called for me from his hospital bed, <br>He needed a priest, and soon, <br>The old man lay in his disarray<br>In the cool of the afternoon, <br>I started to read the Viaticum, <br>His face was turned to the wall, <br>But then he stirred, and muttered one word<br>From the depths of his troubled soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Mons', he muttered, and I was still<br>While he raised his gaze to mine, <br>I saw the struggle he fought within<br>Then I noticed his eyes a-shine, <br>'I was an Old Contemptible, '<br>He said with a trembling voice, <br>'I've been to the shores of Hell, old son, <br>If you thought you could give me a choice.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now, I've never spoken of this before, <br>War is a terrible thing, <br>The Devil rides in the enemies eyes<br>While the bullets just rattle and zing.<br>I've walked through rivers of blood, ' he said, <br>'I've lain in acres of pain, <br>At Mons, outnumbered by three to one<br>In the mist and the cleansing rain.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I killed so many, I must confess, <br>A rifleman born and bred<br>Full fifteen rounds each minute I loosed<br>At the sight of a bobbing head<br>Their field grey uniforms swarmed across, <br>We cut them off at the feet, <br>But then their artillery started up<br>And we knew we'd have to retreat.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Death was having a field day, son, <br>Taking us, one by one, <br>I didn't believe I was going to live<br>No more than my mates had done, <br>They lay in pools on the muddy ground<br>Their eyes a-stare, amazed, <br>The bullets that took them arrived unsung, <br>To herald an early grave.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I patted his hand to quieten him, <br>I saw that the end was near, <br>The war he spoke of was over and done<br>But for him it was crystal clear, <br>I tried absolving his early sin<br>I held his trembling hands, <br>'I need to tell you the rest, ' he croaked, <br>'The awe-ful Angel of Mons.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The Germans had us, the end was nigh, <br>We turned to defend at the last, <br>When up above us a shape was formed<br>With wings that glowed like glass, <br>A glowing angel with luminous wings<br>And it turned to the enemy, <br>The guns were silenced, the air was still<br>And the Germans turned to flee.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweat broke out on the old man's brow, <br>He shivered and let out a sigh, <br>He'd told no-one of the things he'd seen<br>At Mons, in that August sky, <br>The lights were suddenly dimmed in there<br>Like a shadow of former wrongs, <br>And graceful wings folded over his head<br>As he died… the Angel of Mons.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">25 February 2008</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</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=365880" data-title="The Angel of Mons de David Lewis Paget" data-description="He called for me from his hospital bed, 
He needed a priest, and soon, 
The old man lay in his disarray
In the cool of the afternoon, 
I started to read the Viaticum, 
His face was turned to the wall, 
But then he stirred, and muttered one word
Fr..."></div>
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