Laurence Binyon
A Song
For Mercy, Courage, Kindness, Mirth, There is no measure upon earth. Nay, they wither, root and stem, If an end be set to them. Overbrim and overflow, If you own heart you would know;
The Healers
In a vision of the night I saw them, In the battles of the night. ‘Mid the roar and the reeling shadows of blood They were moving like light, Light of the reason, guarded
The Rain Was Ending, And Light
The rain was ending, and light Lifting the leaden skies. It shone upon ceiling and floor And dazzled a child’s eyes. Pale after fever, a captive Apart from his schoolfellows, He stood at the
The House That Was
Of the old house, only a few, crumbled Courses of brick, smothered in nettle and dock, Or a shaped stone lying mossy where it tumbled! Sprawling bramble and saucy thistle mock What once was
Nothing is enough!
No, though our all be spent Heart’s extremest love, Spirit’s whole intent, All that nerve can feel, All that brain invent, Still beyond appeal Will Divine Desire Yet more excellent Precious cost require Of
In the High Leaves of a Walnut
In the high leaves of a walnut, On the very topmost boughs, A boy that climbed the branching bole His cradled limbs would house. On the airy bed that rocked him Long, idle hours
The Burning of the Leaves
Now is the time for the burning of the leaves, They go to the fire; the nostrils prick with smoke Wandering slowly into the weeping mist. Brittle and blotched, ragged and rotten sheaves! A
The Zeppelin
Guns! far and near Quick, sudden, angry, They startle the still street, Upturned faces appear, Doors open on darkness, There is a hurrying of feet, And whirled athwart gloom White fingers of alarm Point
In the shadow of a broken house
In the shadow of a broken house, Down a deserted street, Propt walls, cold hearths, and phantom stairs, And the silence of dead feet – Locked wildly in one another’s arms I saw two
O World, be Nobler
O WORLD, be nobler, for her sake! If she but knew thee what thou art, What wrongs are borne, what deeds are done In thee, beneath thy daily sun, Know’st thou not that her
For the Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free. Solemn
Men of Verdun
There are five men in the moonlight That by their shadows stand; Three hobble humped on crutches, And two lack each a hand. Frogs somewhere near the roadside Chorus their chant absorbed: But a
Invocation to Youth
COME then, as ever, like the wind at morning! Joyous, O Youth, in the aged world renew Freshness to feel the eternities around it, Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew. The
The Woods Entry
So old is the wood, so old, Old as Fear. Wrinkled roots; great stems; hushed leaves; No sound near. Shadows retreat into shadow, Deepening, crossed. Burning light singles a low leaf, a bough, Far
To the Belgians
O race that Cæsar knew, That won stern Roman praise, What land not envies you The laurel of these days? You build your cities rich Around each towered hall, – Without, the statued niche,