The Aisne

A poem by Alan Seeger (1888-1916)

We first saw fire on the tragic slopes

Where the flood-tide of France’s early gain,

Big with wrecked promise and abandoned hopes,

Broke in a surf of blood along the Aisne.

The charge her heroes left us, we assumed,

What, dying, they reconquered, we preserved,

In the chill trenches, harried, shelled, entombed,

Winter came down on us, but no man swerved.

Winter came down on us. The low clouds, torn

In the stark branches of the riven pines,

Blurred the white rockets that from dusk till morn

Traced the wide curve of the close-grappling lines.

In rain, and fog that on the withered hill

Froze before dawn, the lurking foe drew down;

Or light snows fell that made forlorner still

The ravaged country and the ruined town;

Or the long clouds would end. Intensely fair,

The winter constellations blazing forth —

Perseus, the Twins, Orion, the Great Bear —

Gleamed on our bayonets pointing to the north.

And the lone sentinel would start and soar

On wings of strong emotion as he knew

That kinship with the stars that only War

Is great enough to lift man’s spirit to.

And ever down the curving front, aglow

With the pale rockets’ intermittent light,

He heard, like distant thunder, growl and grow

The rumble of far battles in the night, —

Rumors, reverberant, indistinct, remote,

Borne from red fields whose martial names have won

The power to thrill like a far trumpet-note, —

Vic, Vailly, Soupir, Hurtelise, Craonne . . .

Craonne, before thy cannon-swept plateau,

Where like sere leaves lay strewn September’s dead,

I found for all dear things I forfeited

A recompense I would not now forego.

For that high fellowship was ours then

With those who, championing another’s good,

More than dull Peace or its poor votaries could,

Taught us the dignity of being men.

There we drained deeper the deep cup of life,

And on sublimer summits came to learn,

After soft things, the terrible and stern,

After sweet Love, the majesty of Strife;

There where we faced under those frowning heights

The blast that maims, the hurricane that kills;

There where the watchlights on the winter hills

Flickered like balefire through inclement nights;

There where, firm links in the unyielding chain,

Where fell the long-planned blow and fell in vain —

Hearts worthy of the honor and the trial,

We helped to hold the lines along the Aisne.

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Poems in English 

• Aubade by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• A Lover’s Complaint by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• A Fairy Song by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 128: How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 149: Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 148: O me! what eyes hath love put in my head by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 147: My love is as a fever, longing still by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love’s own hand did make by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 144: Two loves I have, of comfort and despair by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 143: Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catch by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 141: In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 140: Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 13: O, that you were your self! But, love, you are by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 137: Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 136: If thy soul check thee that I come so near by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 135: Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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