I’ve watched the Seasons passing slow, so slow, <br />In the fields between La Bassée and Bethune; <br />Primroses and the first warm day of Spring, <br />Red poppy floods of June, <br />August, and yellowing Autumn, so <br />To Winter nights knee-deep in mud or snow, <br />And you’ve been everything. <br /> <br />Dear, you’ve been everything that I most lack <br />In these soul-deadening trenches—pictures, books, <br />Music, the quiet of an English wood, <br />Beautiful comrade-looks, <br />The narrow, bouldered mountain-track, <br />The broad, full-bosomed ocean, green and black, <br />And Peace, and all that’s good.<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1915/
