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Poem by Hilaire Belloc


September


I, from a window where the Meuse is wide,
Looked eastward out to the September night;
The men that in the hopeless battle died
Rose, and deployed, and stationed for the fight;
A brumal army, vague and ordered large
For mile on mile by some pale general,-
I saw them lean by companies to the charge,
But no man living heard the bugle-call.

And fading still, and pointing to their scars,
They fled in lessening clouds, where gray and high
Dawn lay along the heaven in misty bars;
But watching from that eastern casement, I
Saw the Republic splendid in the sky,
And round her terrible head the morning stars.



Hilaire Belloc


Hilaire Belloc's other poems:
  1. On Torture: A Public Singer
  2. The South Country
  3. The Tiger
  4. Time Cures All
  5. Algernon


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Hartley Coleridge September ("THE dark green Summer, with its massive hues")
  • Thomas Tusser September ("Thresh seed and go fan, for the plow may not lie")
  • Madison Cawein September ("The bubbled blue of morning-glory spires")
  • Archibald Lampman September ("Now hath the summer reached her golden close")
  • John Payne September ("HOW is the world of Summer's splendours shorn!")
  • Lucy Montgomery September ("Lo! a ripe sheaf of many golden days")
  • George Arnold September ("Sweet is the voice that calls")

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