Somewhere in France

“Somewhere in France” – we know not where – he lies.

Mid shuddering earth, and under anguished skies!

We may not visit him, but this we say;

Though our steps err, his shall not miss the way.

From the exhaustion of War’s fierce embrace

He, nothing doubting, went to his own place.

To him has come, if not the crown and palm,

The kiss of Peace -  a vast sufficing calm!

So fine a spirit, daring, yet serene –

He may not, surely, lapse from what has been;

Greater, not less, his wondering mind must be;

Ampler, the splendid vision he must see.

‘Tis unbelievable he fades away –

An exaltation at the dawn of day.

Nor dare we dream that he has but returned

Into the Oversoul, to be discerned

Hereafter in the bosom of the rose,

In petal of the lily, or in those

Far jewelled sunset skies that glow and pale,

Or in rich note of the nightingale.

Nay, though all beauty may recall to mind

What we in his fair life were wont to find,

He shall escape absorption, and shall still

Preserve a faculty to know and will.

Such is my hope, slow climbing to a faith;

(We know not Life, how should we then know Death?)

From our small limits and withholdings free,

Somewhere he dwells and keeps high company;

Yet tainted not with so supreme a bliss

As to forget he knew a world like this.

John Hogben,

Publ. 9th October 1915