Category First world war

Writing towards the end of the first world war, the poet, novelist, journalist and suffragist Benson here dreams of a secure peace

The Secret Day

My yesterday has gone, has gone and left me tired,
And now tomorrow comes and beats upon the door;
So I have built To-day, the day that I desired,
Lest joy come not again, lest peace return no more,
Lest comfort come no more.

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A landscape of illusory peace is depicted just before the guns of battle reach it in the first world war

Leaves

A frail and tenuous mist on baffled and intricate branches;
Little gilt leaves are still, for quietness holds every bough;
Pools in the muddy road slumber, reflecting indifferent stars;
Steeped in the loveliness of moonlight is earth, and the valleys,
Brimmed up with quiet shadow, with a mist of sleep.

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