<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Fallen Poet</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">NOW that the soul has left its throne</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Behind your mortal eyes,</p><p class="line">And light, and colour and sound are gone</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">From the body's palaces :</p><p class="line">Still in his wood the blackbird calls,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">But there is one too few to hear :</p><p class="line">And one too few to watch the trout</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Swim through the music of the weir.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And once I dreamt that you were gone,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">As dust upon the wave ;</p><p class="line">Or, as a drop in some deep well,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">That none could sort or save.</p><p class="line">But falling low between the stars,</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">So soon as I had such a fear,</p><p class="line">At dusk and dawn a whisper came :</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">"The dead are near: the dead are near."</p></div></body></html> · Great War