The Death Bed

[MissBrattified]

This poem was quoted on the last episode of Numbers (at the very end)....sorry to be morbid, but I like it.


The Death Bed

HE drowsed and was aware of silence heaped
Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls;
Aqueous like floating rays of amber light,
Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep.
Silence and safety; and his mortal shore
Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.

Someone was holding water to his mouth.
He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped
Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot
The opiate throb and ache that was his wound. 10
Water—calm, sliding green above the weir.
Water—a sky-lit alley for his boat,
Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers
And shaken hues of summer; drifting down,
He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept.

Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward,
Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve.
Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars
Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud;
Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green,
Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes.

Rain—he could hear it rustling through the dark;
Fragrance and passionless music woven as one;
Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers
That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps
Behind the thunder, but a trickling peace,
Gently and slowly washing life away.
. . . .
He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain
Leapt like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore
His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs.
But someone was beside him; soon he lay
Shuddering because that evil thing had passed.
And death, who’d stepped toward him, paused and stared.

Light many lamps and gather round his bed.
Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live.
Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet.
He’s young; he hated War; how should he die
When cruel old campaigners win safe through?

But death replied: ‘I choose him.’ So he went,
And there was silence in the summer night;
Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.
Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.

— Siegfried Sassoon

[Felicity]

Abigail .......

What's "Numbers"? I've never heard of it.

[Felicity]

Never read this poem before. I don't find it particularly morbid and it's certainly obvious this was a man well acquainted with the horrors of war.

The imagery is wonderful. He must have spent a long time honing alliteration, similes, metaphors and thinking of how to paint a picture with the words he used.

I loved the verse about the rain .......

"Rain—he could hear it rustling through the dark;"

Never heard the sound of rain described as "rustling". But it's kind of apt. It does quite sound like that at times.

Also loved .... "silence heaped round him".

Very descriptive poem of what this soldier suffered and felt the few minutes before death became reality.

[Felicity]

Perhaps we can make this the new poetry thread. I've been wanting to start one 'cause I really miss not having one on this forum.

You okay with that Abigail?

[MissBrattified]

Originally Posted by Felicity

Abigail .......

What's "Numbers"? I've never heard of it.

It's a WhoDunIt show that comes on CBS on Friday nights, and they(the FBI) solve the cases using [real] mathematics. You can watch the episodes online at www.cbs.com/innertube (under Full Episodes). It actually isn't my favorite show (although the math stuff is cool), but I did watch this one, and the poem intrigued me more than the rest of the show...

[MissBrattified]

Originally Posted by Felicity

Perhaps we can make this the new poetry thread. I've been wanting to start one 'cause I really miss not having one on this forum.

You okay with that Abigail?

That's fine...I was looking for a poetry section and couldn't find one!

[MissBrattified]

Originally Posted by Felicity

Never read this poem before. I don't find it particularly morbid and it's certainly obvious this was a man well acquainted with the horrors of war.

The imagery is wonderful. He must have spent a long time honing alliteration, similes, metaphors and thinking of how to paint a picture with the words he used.

I loved the verse about the rain .......

"Rain—he could hear it rustling through the dark;"

Never heard the sound of rain described as "rustling". But it's kind of apt. It does quite sound like that at times.

Also loved .... "silence heaped round him".

Very descriptive poem of what this soldier suffered and felt the few minutes before death became reality.

I like how it seems to point to the vicious cycle...death chose him, and then at the end, the "thudding of the guns", and presumably death is off to choose another victim.