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Poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins


The Soldier


Yes. Why do we áll, seeing of a soldier, bless him? bless
Our redcoats, our tars? Both these being, the greater part,
But frail clay, nay but foul clay. Here it is: the heart,
Since, proud, it calls the calling manly, gives a guess
That, hopes that, makesbelieve, the men must be no less;
It fancies, feigns, deems, dears the artist after his art;
And fain will find as sterling all as all is smart,
And scarlet wear the spirit of wár thére express.

Mark Christ our King. He knows war, served this soldiering through;
He of all can handle a rope best. There he bides in bliss
Now, and séeing somewhére some mán do all that man can do,
For love he leans forth, needs his neck must fall on, kiss,
And cry O Christ-done deed! So God-made-flesh does too:
Were I come oer again cries Christ it should be this. 



Gerard Manley Hopkins


Gerard Manley Hopkins's other poems:
  1. Harry Ploughman
  2. Ribblesdale
  3. Barnfloor and Winepress
  4. Repeat That, Repeat
  5. Tom's Garland


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Rupert Brooke The Soldier ("If I should die, think only this of me")
  • John Clare The Soldier ("Home furthest off grows dearer from the way")

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