The Poet as Hero

You’ve heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented,
Mocking and loathing War: you’ve asked me why
Of my old, silly sweetness I’ve repented—
My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry.

You are aware that once I sought the Grail,
Riding in armour bright, serene and strong;
And it was told that through my infant wail
There rose immortal semblances of song.

But now I’ve said good-bye to Galahad,
And am no more the knight of dreams and show:
For lust and senseless hatred make me glad,
And my killed friends are with me where I go.
Wound for red wound I burn to smite their wrongs;
And there is absolution in my songs.

RECENT COLUMNS

Archives

The Catholic Thing Daily Email

Receive columns each morning about events in the Church and the world.

  • Join the 50k+ subscribers who receive The Catholic Thing's daily email

  • This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

 Join the 50k+ subscribers who receive The Catholic Thing's daily email

The Catholic Thing Daily Email

Receive columns each morning about events in the Church and the world.

  • Join the 50k+ subscribers who receive The Catholic Thing's daily email

  • This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

 Join the 50k+ subscribers who receive The Catholic Thing's daily email