All posts in category Poems

Undated (~Feb. 1941).
To Win.

Oh Win! Thy name is Winter,
Because of thy dark coat.
And also for the snowflake,
That lies upon thy throat.

Thy name is also Winter,
Because t’was then thou came.
Out of the stormy weather,
To our hearth’s bright flame.

Thy coat has felt full many a scrap,
Thy ears are ragged left and right.
Thy poor left paw has felt a trap,
But thine eyes still are clear and bright.

They left thee on the doorstep Win,
And went away to other parts.
They did not guess it was a sin,
But hoped the neighbours had kind hearts.

The poem ‘To Win’ has been added to the poems collection on this site. It also appears in the book The Casualties Were Small .

Have you read an introduction to May Hill & family (includes photographs) and explored ‘The Casualties Were Small’?

Dec 29 [1940].
The Click of the Garden Gate.

I hear the click of the garden gate,
But it is not he.
He comes no more either early or late,
To his dinner or tea.
He is far away in an Air Force Camp,
Learning to fight.
(I wonder if his blankets are damp,
And if he sleeps well at night.)

Not twenty years when went away.
Just a boy.
He may never again come back to stay,
To delight and annoy.
Will what he has gained balance what he has lost?
He will change.
Will his growth to manhood improve him most?
Or make him change?

I open the casement into his room,
So tidy and neat.
And the sun shines in and chases the gloom,
And the wind blows sweet.
Ready for him when, early or late,
He comes back home to the sea.
I hear the click of the garden gate,
But it is not he.
(Perhaps it is Rene coming to tea!)

Have you read an introduction to May Hill & family (includes photographs) and explored ‘The Casualties Were Small’?

Dec 6. 40.
Peace for Children – A Prayer.

The boys and girls of England,
They bear the yoke of war.
They hear the noise of guns and bombs,
And a throbbing from afar,
That tells of planes now coming near,
To drop destruction death, and pain,
Of wounds and deathly, racking, awful fear.
These little ones who should be safe
And warm within their sheltered homes,
Now cower in shelters cold and damp,
In peril of life and home and health,
And evil done to them by stealth.
Lord out of all Thy stores of wealth,
Grant us Thy aid to win this war,
That in a new and better age,
Thy little ones shall dwell in Peace.
Thou saidst “Whoe’er offended these,
T’were better that a millstone hung about his neck,
And he were cast into the sea.”
Lord cast him out into the depths, without Thy aid.
Thy older children are afraid.

Have you read an introduction to May Hill & family (includes photographs) and explored ‘The Casualties Were Small’?