Not yet will those measureless fields be green again
Where only yesterday the wild sweet blood of wonderful youth was shed
The cruelty in this poem is overwhelming – as Sassoon intended. So opposed was he to jingoistic propaganda, he deliberately slashed very tender imagery with the sharpest irony.
The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach. I have heard them all, and of the three elemental voices, that of ocean is the most awesome, beautiful and varied.
How can they use such names and be not humble?
I have sat silent; angry at what they uttered.
When Thomas and Frost met in London in 1913, neither had yet made his name as a poet. They became close, and each was vital to the other’s success. But then Frost wrote ‘The Road Not Taken’, which brought Thomas to an irreversible decision.
Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rain
On this bleak hut, and solitude, and me
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