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Poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Where Are You Poets?
Where are you, Poets, that a Hero dies Unsung? He who, when Duty brought too soon His billet of rest toiled on till he had won The countersign of Glory? There he lies, And in the silence of your poesies He looks a Poem; yea, so made and done As if the Bardic Heavens had thrown him down In model to your making. Close his eyes, That yours may learn him. To fulfil the Law In Gospel, force the seeds of use to flower In Beauty, to enman invisible Truth And then transfigure-this is Poetry. And this the World and his dear Country saw Hymned unawares in that unconquer'd youth Who, scorning to give less than all his power, Having bled for us, then aspired to die; And, dying thus, left one more pledge behind That England may again deserve to lead Mankind.
Sydney Thompson Dobell
Sydney Thompson Dobell's other poems:
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