| Poems by Women |
Francis Ledwidge
(Killed in action July 31, 1917)
Nevermore singing
Will you go now,
Wearing wild moonlight
On your
brow.
The moon's white mood
In your silver mind
Is all
forgotten.
Words of wind
From off the hedgerow
After rain,
You do
not hear them;
They are vain.
There is a linnet
Craves a song,
And
you returning
Before long.
Now who will tell her,
Who can say
On
what great errand
You are away?
You whose kindred
Were hills of
Meath,
Who sang the lane-rose
From her sheath,
What voice will cry
them
The grief at dawn
Or say to the blackbird
You are gone?
From: Rittenhouse, Jessie B.
The Second Book of Modern Verse (1919).
This poet:
[Author index]
This collection assembled by Jone Johnson Lewis.
Collection © 1999-2002 Jone Johnson Lewis.
Citing poems from these pages:
| Author. "Poem Title." Women's History: Poems by Women. Jone Johnson Lewis, editor. URL: (date of logon) |
