Cameroon Anthology of Poetry

Robert Graves

139 Robert Graves Recalling War Entrance and exit wounds are silvered clean, The track aches only when the rain reminds. The one-legged man forgets his leg of wood, The one-armed man his jointed wooden arm. The blinded man sees with his ears and hands As much or more than once with both his eyes. Their war was fought these twenty years ago And now assumes the nature-look of time, As when the morning traveller turns and views His wild night-stumbling carved into a hill. When, then, was war? No mere discord of flags But an infection of the common sky That sagged ominously upon the earth Even when the season was the airiest May. Down pressed the sky, and we, oppressed, thrust out Boastful tongue, clenched fist and valiant yard. Natural infirmities were out of mode, For Death was young again: patron alone Of healthy dying, premature fate-spasm. Fear made fine bed-fellows. Sick with delight At life’s discovered transitoriness, Our youth became all-flesh and waived the mind. Never was such antiqueness or romance, Such tasty honey oozing from the heart. And old importances came swimming back – Wine, meat, log-fires, a roof over the head, A weapon at the thigh, surgeons at call. Even there was a use again for God – A word of rage in lack of meat, wine, fire, In ache of wounds beyond all surgeoning. 140 War was return of earth to ugly earth, War was foundering of sblimities, Extinction of each happy art and faith By which the world had still kept head in air, Protesting logic or protesting love, Until the unendurable moment struck – The inward scream, the duty to run mad. And we recall the merry ways of guns – Nibbling the walls of factory and church Like a child, piecrust; felling groves of trees Like a child, dandelions with a switch. Machine-guns rattle toy-like from a hill, Down in a row the brave tin-soldiers fall: A sight to be recalled in elder days When learnedly the future we devote To yet more boastful visions of despair. ...