(Children at play on a French Battlefield)
“When I was a child,”
You shall tell one day,
Children, on these blackened fields
Gallantly at play,
“All the quiet sky
Burst in death aflame;
One day, I was young,
Then . . . The Horror came.”
“When I was a child . . .”
Wind-tossed leaves of war,
Is there childhood still for you,
Wise in horror-lore,
Who have heard your sisters’ screams
Shattering your play,
Seen your mothers past their dead
Led to shame away?
Ragged, helpless, maimed,
Hungry, left alone
Where the smoking roof-beams lie
By the wrecked hearth-stone,
Still you mime (child-hearts are strong,
Childhood pain is brief)
Echoes of world-victory,
World-defeat, world-grief!
Dauntless in your rags,
Insolent in mirth,
Laughing with young lips that know
All the griefs of earth,
God, who loves a high heart well,
Will not let you fail-
You are France, who laughs at Hell-
France, who shall prevail!
(Margaret Widdemer)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, Death & Dying Poems, War & Peace Poems, Youth Poems, Pain Poems, Wisdom & Knowledge Poems, Grief Poems, Children Poems, Hell Poems, Childhood Poems, Smoking PoemsBased on Keywords: mime, wind-tossed, child-hearts, roof-beams