This Green and Pleasant Land

This is the view near one of the local leisure centres in Brigg, sis and I were intending to go for swim at the leisure centre, however neither of us felt up to it. 
This evening we went out to the local theatre to watch an Amateur Dramatics group put on a performance of Blackadder Goes Forth, being a huge fan of the Blackadder shows I thought it would be good. We were not disappointed, intact it was fantastic, well acted and thoroughly entertaining. The end was very poignant and shows how futile and barbaric the First World War was, lambs to the slaughter comes to  mind. 
With this in mind to mark national poetry day I have decided to post one of my favourite war poems;

 Anthem for Doomed Youth by Wilfred Owen


What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? 
Only the monstrous anger of the guns. 
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle 
Can patter out their hasty orisons. 
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; 
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, 
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; 
And bugles calling for them from sad shires. 
What candles may be held to speed them all? 
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes 
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes. 
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; 
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, 
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.