Dust in a cloud, blinding weather, <br />Drums that rattle and roar! <br />A mother and daughter stood together <br />Beside their cottage door. <br /> <br />'Mother, the heavens are bright like brass, <br />The dust is shaken high, <br />With labouring breath the soldiers pass, <br />Their lips are cracked and dry.' <br /> <br />'Mother, I'll throw them apples down, <br />I'll bring them pails of water.' <br />The mother turned with an angry frown <br />Holding back her daughter. <br /> <br />'But mother, see, they faint with thirst, <br />They march away to die,' <br />'Ah, sweet, had I but known at first <br />Their throats are always dry.' <br /> <br />'There is no water can supply them <br />In western streams that flow, <br />There is no fruit can satisfy them <br />On orchard trees that grow.' <br /> <br />'Once in my youth I gave, poor fool, <br />A soldier apples and water, <br />So may I die before you cool <br />Your father's drouth, my daughter.'<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apples-and-water/
