You love us when we're heroes, home on leave,
Or wounded in a mentionable place.
You worship decorations; you believe
That chivalry redeems the war's disgrace.
You make us shells. You listen with delight,
By tales of dirt and danger fondly thrilled.
You crown our distant ardours while we fight,
And mourn our laurelled memories when we're killed.
You can't believe that British troops “retire”
When hell's last horror breaks them, and they run,
Trampling the terrible corpses-blind with blood.
O German mother dreaming by the fire,
While you are knitting socks to send your son
His face is trodden deeper in the mud.
Glory Of Women
Siegfried Sassoon
(1)
Poem topics: I love you, fire, home, mother, son, war, crown, fight, place, face, listen, german, delight, terrible, blind, mourn, worship, horror, danger, believe, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Glory Of Women poem by Siegfried Sassoon
Best Poems of Siegfried Sassoon