The Aftermath (poem)

"The Aftermath" is a poem written by Walter Blythe during the First World War.

Text
I.

Yesterday we were young who now are old...

We fought hot-hearted under a sweet sky,

The lust of blood made even cowards bold,

And no one feared to die;

We were all drunken with a horrid joy,

We laughed as devils laugh from hell released,

And, when the moon rose redly in the east,

I killed a stripling boy!

He might have been my brother slim ad fair...

I killed him horribly and I was glad,

It pleased me much to see his dabbled hair,

The pale and pretty lad!

I waved my bayonet aloft in glee...

He writhed there like a worm, and all around

Dead men were scattered o'er the reeking ground...

Ours was the victory!

II.

Now we are old who yesterday were young

And cannot see the beauty of the skies,

For we have gazed the pits of hell among

And they have scorched our eyes.

The dead are happier than we who live,

For, dying, they have purged their memory thus

And won forgetfulness; but what to us

Can such oblivion give?

We must remember always; evermore

Must spring be hateful and the dawn a shame...

We shall not sleep as we have slept before

That withering blast of flame.

The wind has voices that may not be stilled...

The wind that yester morning was so blithe...

And everywhere I look I see him writhe,

That pretty boy I killed!

Behind the Scenes

 * Jem later says that Walter never actually bayoneted anyone, but he saw...
 * Anne declares that she is glad Walter never came back.
 * Jem and Anne are the only ones who ever read it.
 * Jem quotes Matthew Arnold—'We forget because we must.'