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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374317" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>1916 Seen From 1921</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,<br>I sit in solitude and only hear<br>Long silent laughters, murmurings of dismay,<br>The lost intensities of hope and fear;<br>In those old marshes yet the rifles lie,<br>On the thin breastwork flutter the grey rags,<br>The very books I read are there—and I<br>Dead as the men I loved, wait while life drags</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Its wounded length from those sad streets of war<br>Into green places here, that were my own;<br>But now what once was mine is mine no more,<br>I seek such neighbours here and I find none.<br>With such strong gentleness and tireless will<br>Those ruined houses seared themselves in me,<br>Passionate I look for their dumb story still,<br>And the charred stub outspeaks the living tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I rise up at the singing of a bird<br>And scarcely knowing slink along the lane,<br>I dare not give a soul a look or word<br>Where all have homes and none’s at home in vain:<br>Deep red the rose burned in the grim redoubt,<br>The self-sown wheat around was like a flood,<br>In the hot path the lizard lolled time out,<br>The saints in broken shrines were bright as blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet Mary’s shrine between the sycamores!<br>There we would go, my friend of friends and I,<br>And snatch long moments from the grudging wars,<br>Whose dark made light intense to see them by.<br>Shrewd bit the morning fog, the whining shots<br>Spun from the wrangling wire: then in warm swoon<br>The sun hushed all but the cool orchard plots,<br>We crept in the tall grass and slept till noon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edmund+Blunden">Edmund Blunden</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=374317" data-title="1916 Seen From 1921 de Edmund Blunden" data-description="Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,
I sit in solitude and only hear
Long silent laughters, murmurings of dismay,
The lost intensities of hope and fear;
In those old marshes yet the rifles lie,
On the thin breastwork flutter the grey ra..."></div>
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