Versamelde gedigte

Recordatio

It was upon this heath,

Now poppy pied,

That I came face to face with Death

And knew men lied.

They called him ‘Icy - grim -

Austere - morose ...’

I'd use a different name for Him

Than one of those.

[p. 425]

 

He came to meet my men,

 

Who knew He came

 

Although they could not spy Him then;

 

For smoke and flame

 

Obscured our view that night.

 

But I could see

 

His quick hand greeting left and right

 

His nod to me.

 

 

 

His face was like a boy's,

 

Silk-smooth and fair,

 

Gladly serene as if all joys

 

Were centred there.

 

His eyes were tender, mild;

 

His smile was sweet,

 

So kind that every baby child

 

Would crow to see it.

 

 

 

Where His white shadow fell

 

Upon the ground

 

Peace came upon that clamant hell

 

That raged around.

 

A nightjar fluttered by,

 

And through the smoke

 

I caught a glimpse of starlit sky,

 

And then He spoke.

 

 

 

I don't remember now

 

What words He said.

 

His voice was very soft and low

 

And comforted

 

My aching wounded pride,

 

My pain and fear;

 

I felt His presence at my side

 

So near - so near.

 

 

 

Then suddenly I lay

 

Prone on the ground.

 

My forehead touched the shell-scarred clay,

 

And from my wound

 

Blood mingled with the mire

 

And bleared my sight -

 

Then came a peace beyond desire,

 

And instant night.

 

 

 

How long I lay, God knows,

 

Upon that heath.

 

I only knew death had no throes

 

If this were death.

[p. 426]

 

I raised my head. The moon

 

Rose o'er the hill.

 

Around, the men of my platoon

 

Lay quietly still.