The Poetry Corner

Transports

By John Le Gay Brereton

Behind us lay the homely shore With youthful memories aureoled; A sky of dazzling blue before, We sailed a sea of molten gold. To our old haven we return; By smoky hills as grey as mud We see the sullen sunset burn Malignant on a lake of blood. Yes, we return: but memory roams A foul, bleak age of pain that yields The smoke and flame of ruined homes, The muck of cannon-pitted fields.