Before the Veterans Die

Poetry of World War II by Dale R. Carver

Note: Reprinted without permission for private use only. No copyright infringement is intended.

Winter, 1944-45

This year also spring will come
to beautify the earth.
The glory in each icy clod
even now awaits its birth.

Spring will come to this hurt land.
Its face will then be gay.
The splendor latent in each bough
will swell, then burst and sway.

Winter yields each year to spring --
it's nature's rule, so be it.
Even this year spring will come
and some of us will see it.

The Infantry, Queen of Battles

The sleeping Queen was awakened by the crowing cock of gold.
She roused to make the routine call; to her the game was old.
From the mines and orchards, from schools and shops and farms,
her conscripts came to shoulder her colors and her arms.

She kneaded the motley mixture with hands carelessly cruel.
Unmindful of one single man, from millions she fashioned a tool.
She honed it with exquisite frustration; she tried it in the mud.
She heated it to desperation, then quenched it slowly in blood.

Previous | Next

Please visit my WWII-related website,