Bathsheba 1
Poppies for Remembrance
This poem was written by Vera Brittain, after losing her fiance Roland in the First World War. For me, it's a reminder that all of the soldiers who lost their lives were individuals with homes, and families, and people who loved them. It brings home the devastating cost of war. I've always found it really upsetting and difficult to read, but nevertheless I think it's a fitting reminder of the soldiers who died, and of the people they left behind.
Perhaps (To R.A.L.)
Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,
And feel once more I do not live in vain,
Although bereft of You.
Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet
Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay,
And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,
Though You have passed away.
Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,
And crimson roses once again be fair,
And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,
Although You are not there.
Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain
To see the passing of the dying year,
And listen to Christmas songs again,
Although You cannot hear.'
But though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.
Poppies for Remembrance
This poem was written by Vera Brittain, after losing her fiance Roland in the First World War. For me, it's a reminder that all of the soldiers who lost their lives were individuals with homes, and families, and people who loved them. It brings home the devastating cost of war. I've always found it really upsetting and difficult to read, but nevertheless I think it's a fitting reminder of the soldiers who died, and of the people they left behind.
Perhaps (To R.A.L.)
Perhaps some day the sun will shine again,
And I shall see that still the skies are blue,
And feel once more I do not live in vain,
Although bereft of You.
Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet
Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay,
And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet,
Though You have passed away.
Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,
And crimson roses once again be fair,
And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,
Although You are not there.
Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain
To see the passing of the dying year,
And listen to Christmas songs again,
Although You cannot hear.'
But though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.