The Deserter
"I refuse to murder or maim this man, my brother,
Or soil my soul in the smoke of war's red smother.
I refuse to kindle the flame that shall burn this city,
So my heart be murder-stained and dead to pity.
I refuse to obey your command. I have no duty
Other than love of Life and love of Beauty.
Tho' you riddle my body with lead still I'll be grateful.
But I'm gone-- and you're left behind, pursuing and hateful.
I fly with the wings of the wind and a hope surprising--
And reach a haven at last, as the sun is rising.
And here till the night-shades fall I sleep in gladness,
Then up, on the dark, rough road, to my home of sadness.
Hard on my track snarl the hounds of hell's own breeding;
But again I'm gone and roadway's 'neath me speeding.
Soon my garb of shame's sunk to the depths of the river,
And dressed in the clothes of a man I offer thanks to the giver.
For I will not murder or maim this man, my brother,
Or sink my soul in the slime of war's red smother.
I'll get away if I can and in more peaceful regions
I'll live and love and forget War and its murdering smother".
Albert Young,
First printed Daily Herald early 1915. Young (a Londoner) wrote poems for Guy Aldred's papers before and during the war. He also contributed to Sylvia Pankhurst's 'Dreadnought' and Tom Anderson's Clydeside 'Red Dawn'
Hat tip to comment in the Guardian
"I refuse to murder or maim this man, my brother,
Or soil my soul in the smoke of war's red smother.
I refuse to kindle the flame that shall burn this city,
So my heart be murder-stained and dead to pity.
I refuse to obey your command. I have no duty
Other than love of Life and love of Beauty.
Tho' you riddle my body with lead still I'll be grateful.
But I'm gone-- and you're left behind, pursuing and hateful.
I fly with the wings of the wind and a hope surprising--
And reach a haven at last, as the sun is rising.
And here till the night-shades fall I sleep in gladness,
Then up, on the dark, rough road, to my home of sadness.
Hard on my track snarl the hounds of hell's own breeding;
But again I'm gone and roadway's 'neath me speeding.
Soon my garb of shame's sunk to the depths of the river,
And dressed in the clothes of a man I offer thanks to the giver.
For I will not murder or maim this man, my brother,
Or sink my soul in the slime of war's red smother.
I'll get away if I can and in more peaceful regions
I'll live and love and forget War and its murdering smother".
Albert Young,
First printed Daily Herald early 1915. Young (a Londoner) wrote poems for Guy Aldred's papers before and during the war. He also contributed to Sylvia Pankhurst's 'Dreadnought' and Tom Anderson's Clydeside 'Red Dawn'
Hat tip to comment in the Guardian
1 comment:
The rhyme-scheme and the sense both suggest strongly that the last word should be "legions", not the let-down of the repeat of "smother". I would stand by this even if it was misprinted as "smother" in the original and all subsequent editions - something which I feel does a real disservice to the poet. (Liz at RaHN)
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