A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Richmond Park
RICHMOND PARK
THE thorns were blooming red and white,
The blue air throbbed with May's delight;
To live was joy. Loud sang the lark
Of peace and love in Richmond Park.
Our crippled soldiers took the sun,
Glad that their bloody work was done;
Being free to feel the morning's charm,
They grudged no loss of leg or arm.
The yaffles dipped from glade to glade—
Quick gleams of gold and green. I made
A song in my heart. Each hour inspires
Lit by the rhododendron fires.
The cuckoo called: his ancient note
Stirred the world's soul; and mine it smote
With pain. He quested in sad trees
Whose dead limbs shewed their tragedies.
Yet something of a happier time—
When oaks could flourish in the prime
Of spring—came back to all who heard
The morning voiceful in that bird.
Suddenly boomed a gun. Less bright
The landscape grew: a droning flight
Of man-birds scared a singing lark,
And a yaffle laughed in Richmond Park.