Ivor Gurney Poems on Poets (8 Poems)


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    Tobacco (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    When tobacco came, When Raleigh did first bring inThe unfabled herb, the plant of peace, the kingOf comfort bringers, then indeed new hopeCame to the host of poets — with new scopeNew range of power, since henceforth one might sitMidnight-on … Continue reading



    Laventie (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    One would remember stillMeadows and low hillLaventie was, as to the line and elm rowGrowing through green strength wounded, as home elms grow.Shimmer of summer there and blue autumn mistsSeen from trench-ditch winding in mazy twists.The Australian gunners in close … Continue reading



    La Gorgues (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    The long night, the short sleep, and La Gorgues to wander,So be the Fates were kind and our Commander;With a mill, and still canal, and like-Stroudway bridges.One looks back on these as Time’s truest riches –Which were so short an … Continue reading



    Poem For The End (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    So the last poem is laid flat in its place,And Crickley with Crucifix Comer leaves from my faceElizabethans and night-working thoughts – of such grace. And all the dawns that set my thoughts new to making;Or Crickley dusk that the … Continue reading



    London Dawn (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    Dawn comes up on London,And night’s undone.Stars are routedAnd street lamps outed.Sodden great clouds begin sail againLike all-night anchored galleons to the mainFrom careful shallows to the far-withdrawnWide outer seas of sky,Sleepers above river change their pain,Lockhart’s shows lively up … Continue reading



    On Somme (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    Suddenly into the still air burst thuddingAnd thudding and cold fear possessed me all,On the gray slopes there, where Winter in sullen broodingHung between height and depth of the ugly fallOf Heaven to earth; and the thudding was illness own.But … Continue reading



    To The Poet Before Battle (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    Now, youth, the hour of thy dread passion comes;Thy lovely things must all be laid away;And thou, as others, must face the riven dayUnstirred by rattle of the rolling drumsOr bugles’ strident cry. When mere noise numbsThe sense of being, … Continue reading



    The Garden (Ivor Gurney Poems)

    The ordered curly and plain cabbagesAre all set out like school-children in rows;In six short weeks shall these no longer please,For with that ink-proud lady the rose, pleasure goes. I cannot think what moved the poet menSo to write panegyrics … Continue reading




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