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Ivor Gurney's Poetry, by title

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  • I would hope for the children of West Ham
    Wooden-frame houses, square with some-sort stuff
    27 lines
  • O does some blind fool now stand on my hill
    To see how Ashleworth nestles by the river?
    18 lines
  • Those dreadful evidences of Man's ill-doing
    The kindly Mother of all shall soon hide deep,
    14 lines
  • We who praise poets with our labouring pen
    And justify ourselves with laud of men
    17 lines
  • The wind frightens my dog, but I bathe in it,
    Sound, rush, scent of the Spring fields.
    4 lines
  • Watching the dark my spirit rose in flood
    On that most dearest Prelude of my delight.
    8 lines
  • As I went up by Ovillers
    In mud and water cold to the knee,
    23 lines, 1 comment
  • I cannot live with Beauty out of mind.
    I search for her and desire her all the day;
    19 lines, 3 comments
  • Few have praised the master of masters, who but I
    Have right, that followed example, and did not lie
    21 lines
  • O, but the  racked clear tired strained frames we had!
    Tumbling in the new billet on to straw bed,
    17 lines
  • It seemed that it were well to kiss first earth
    On landing, having traversed the narrow seas,
    18 lines
  • One lucky hour in middle of my tiredness
    I came under the pines of the sheer steep
    11 lines
  • The youth burning couch grass is as tired
    As muscle has right to bear and keeps work on
    18 lines
  • If England, her spirit lives anywhere
    It is by Severn, by hawthorns and grand willows.
    15 lines
  • We marched, and saw a company of Canadians
    Their coats weighed eighty pounds at least, we saw them
    21 lines
  • The dearness of common things —
    Beech wood, tea, plate-shelves,
    19 lines
  • There was a water dump there, and regimental
    Carts came every day to line up and fill full
    24 lines
  • Not in blue vases these
    Nor white, cut flowers are seen
    57 lines
  • If one's heart is broken twenty times a day,
    What easier thing than to fling the bits away,
    8 lines
  • Darkness has cheating swiftness
    When the eyes rove
    13 lines
  • I will not droop my soiled flag,
    Nor turn a thought on my own shame,
    12 lines
  • Misery weighed by drachms and scruples
    Is but scrawls on a vain page,
    8 lines
  • One comes across the strangest things in walks,
    Fragment of Abbey tithe barns fixed in modern,
    18 lines
  • The tiny daisies are
    Not anything
    22 lines
  • After the dread tales and red yams of the Line
    Anything might have come to us; but the divine
    16 lines
  • The ploughed field and the fallow field
    They sang a prudent song to me;
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • There are mummers yet on Cotswold,
    Though Will Squele he lies low,
    8 lines
  • Had I a song
    I would sing it here
    8 lines
  • Half dead with sheer tiredness, wakened quick at night •
    With dysentry pangs, going blind among sleepers
    10 lines
  • To me the A Major Concerto has been dearer
    Than ever before, because I saw one weave
    22 lines, 1 comment
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