John McCrae

John McCrae

Nov 30, 1872 - Jan 28, 1918

 

The Warrior

by John McCrae

He wrought in poverty, the dull grey days,
But with the night his little lamp-lit room
Was bright with battle flame, or through a haze
Of smoke that stung his eyes he heard the boom
Of Blücher's guns; he shared Almeida's scars,
And from the close-packed deck, about to die,
Looked up and saw the Birkenhead's tall spars
Weave wavering lines across the Southern sky:

Or in the stifling 'tween decks, row on row.
At Aboukir, saw how the dead men lay;
Charged with the fiercest in Busaco's strife,
Brave dreams are his - the flickering lamp burns low -
Yet couraged for the battles of the day
He goes to stand full face to face with life.

Source:

In Flanders Fields, And Other Poems
Copyright 1919
G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York and London
 
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