Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

More Poems. 39. My Dreams Are of a Field Afar

My dreams are of a field afar
        And blood and smoke and shot.
There in their graves my comrades are,
        In my grave I am not.

I too was taught the trade of man
        And spelt the lesson plain;
But they, when I forgot and ran,
        Remembered and remain.

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