THE FARMER REMEMBERS THE SOMME by Vance Palmer (1885-1959)

Will they never fade or pass!
The mud, and the misty figures endlessly coming
In file through the foul morass,
And the grey flood-water ripping the reeds and grass,
And the steel wings drumming.

The hills are bright in the sun: There's nothing changed or marred in the well-known places; When work for the day is done There's talk, and quiet laughter, and gleams of fun On the old folks' faces.
I have returned to these: The farm, and the kindly Bush, and the young calves lowing; But all that my mind sees Is a quaking bog in a mist - stark, snapped trees, And the dark Somme flowing.

Return to the Larrikin Literature page.