Yes, I still remember
The whole thing in a way;
Edge and exactitude
Depend on the day.
Of all that prodigious scene
There seems scanty loss,
Though mists mainly float and screen
Canal, spire and fosse;
Though commonly I fail to name
That once obvious Hill,
And where we went and whence we came
To be killed, or kill.
Those mists are spiritual
And luminous-obscure,
Evolved of countless circumstance
Of which I am sure;
Of which, at the instance
Of sound, smell, change and stir,
New-old shapes for ever
Intensely recur.
And some are sparkling, laughing, singing,
Young, heroic, mild;
And some incurable, twisted,
Shrieking, dumb, defiled.
(Edmund Blunden)
More Poetry from Edmund Blunden:
Edmund Blunden Poems based on Topics: Youth, Singing, Change- Preparations For Victory (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- Chinese Paper Knife (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- April Byeway (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- Almswomen (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- Perch Fishing (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- The Child's Grave (Edmund Blunden Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Youth Poems, Change Poems, Singing PoemsBased on Keywords: evolved, fosse, commonly, intensely, recur, incurable, exactitude, new-old