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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=507089" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Country At War</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">And what of home--how goes it, boys,<br>While we die here in stench and noise?<br>'The hill stands up and hedges wind<br>Over the crest and drop behind;<br>Here swallows dip and wild things go<br>On peaceful errands to and fro<br>Across the sloping meadow floor,<br>And make no guess at blasting war.<br>In woods that fledge the round hill-shoulder<br>Leaves shoot and open, fall and moulder,<br>And shoot again. Meadows yet show<br>Alternate white of drifted snow<br>And daisies. Children play at shop,<br>Warm days, on the flat boulder-top,<br>With wildflower coinage, and the wares<br>Are bits of glass and unripe pears.<br>Crows perch upon the backs of sheep,<br>The wheat goes yellow: women reap,<br>Autumn winds ruffle brook and pond,<br>Flutter the hedge and fly beyond.<br>So the first things of nature run,<br>And stand not still for any one,<br>Contemptuous of the distant cry<br>Wherewith you harrow earth and sky.<br>And high French clouds, praying to be<br>Back, back in peace beyond the sea,<br>Where nature with accustomed round<br>Sweeps and garnishes the ground<br>With kindly beauty, warm or cold--<br>Alternate seasons never old:<br>Heathen, how furiously you rage,<br>Cursing this blood and brimstone age,<br>How furiously against your will<br>You kill and kill again, and kill:<br>All thought of peace behind you cast,<br>Till like small boys with fear aghast,<br>Each cries for God to understand,<br>'I could not help it, it was my hand.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Graves">Robert Graves</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=507089" data-title="Country At War de Robert Graves" data-description="And what of home--how goes it, boys,
While we die here in stench and noise?
'The hill stands up and hedges wind
Over the crest and drop behind;
Here swallows dip and wild things go
On peaceful errands to and fro
Across the sloping meadow floor,
An..."></div>
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