Here you will find the Poem From the Somme of poet Leslie Coulson
In other days I sang of simple things, Of summer dawn, and summer noon and night, The dewy grass, the dew wet fairy rings, The larks long golden flight. Deep in the forest I made melody While squirrels cracked their hazel nuts on high, Or I would cross the wet sand to the sea And sing to sea and sky. When came the silvered silence of the night I stole to casements over scented lawns, And softly sang of love and love?s delight To mute white marble fauns. Oft in the tavern parlour I would sing Of morning sun upon the mountain vine, And, calling for a chorus, sweep the string In praise of good red wine. I played with all the toys the gods provide, I sang my songs and made glad holiday Mow I have cast my broken toys aside And flung my lute away. A singer once, I now am fain to weep, Within my soul I feel strange music swell, Vast chants of tragedy too deep - too deep For my poor lips to tell.
