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Ivor Gurney's Poetry, by written

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  • Out of the blackthorn edges
    I caught a tune
    13 lines, 1 comment
  • After the dread tales and red yams of the Line
    Anything might have come to us; but the divine
    16 lines
  • Certain people would not clean their buttons,
    Nor polish buckles after latest fashions,
    16 lines, 5 comments
  • Watching the dark my spirit rose in flood
    On that most dearest Prelude of my delight.
    8 lines
  • Only the wanderer
    Knows England's graces,
    8 lines
  • Pain, pain continual; pain unending;
    Hard even to the roughest, but to those
    13 lines
  • When I remember plain heroic strength
    And shining virtue shown by Ypres pools,
    14 lines
  • My heart makes songs on lonely roads
    To comfort me while you're away,
    13 lines
  • Lying in dug-outs, joking idly, wearily;
    Watching the candle guttering in the draught;
    28 lines
  • The long night, the short sleep, and La Gorgues to wander,
    So be the Fates were kind and our Commander;
    30 lines
  • O does some blind fool now stand on my hill
    To see how Ashleworth nestles by the river?
    18 lines
  • I straightened my back from turmut-hoeing
    And saw, with suddenly opened eyes,
    13 lines
  • Life softly clanging cymbals were
    Plane-trees, poplars Autumn had
    28 lines
  • The tiny daisies are
    Not anything
    22 lines
  • There was such beauty in the dappled valley
    As hurt the sight, the heart stabbed to tears.
    15 lines
  • On uplands bleak and bare to wind
    Beneath a maze of stars I strode;
    25 lines
  • When from the curve of the wood's edge does grow
    Power, and that spreads to envelope me —
    14 lines
  • When clouds shake out their sails
    Before delighted gales,
    24 lines
  • Gone bare the fields now, and the starlings gather,
    Whirr above stubble and soft changing hedges.
    13 lines
  • The songs I had are withered
    Or vanished clean,
    8 lines
  • Dawn comes up on London,
    And night's undone.
    24 lines
  • The ploughed field and the fallow field
    They sang a prudent song to me;
    14 lines, 1 comment
  • I think the loathed minutes one by one
    That tear and then go past are little worth
    8 lines
  • When I am covered with the dust of peace
    And but the rain to moist my senseless clay,
    14 lines
  • Of course not all the watchers of the dawn
    See Severn mists like forced-march mists withdraw
    8 lines
  • The horses of day plunge and are restrained
    Dawn broadens to quarter height, and the meadow mists
    8 lines
  • Had I a song
    I would sing it here
    8 lines
  • What evil coil of Fate has fastened me
    Who cannot move to sight, whose bread is sight,
    7 lines
  • The hoe scrapes earth as fine in grain as sand,
    I like the swirl of it and the swing in the hand
    8 lines
  • I will not droop my soiled flag,
    Nor turn a thought on my own shame,
    12 lines
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