What the Bullet sang
O Joy of creation,
To be!
O rapture, to fly
And be free!
Be the battle lost or won,
Though its smoke shall hide the sun,
I shall find my love -- the one
Born for me!
I shall know him where he stands
All alone,
With the power in his hands
Not o'erthrown;
I shall know him by his face,
By his godlike front and grace;
I shall hold him for a space
All my own!
It is he -- O my love!
So bold!
It is I -- all thy love
Foretold!
It is I -- O love, what bliss!
Dost thou answer to my kiss?
O sweetheart! what is this
Lieth there so cold?
Commentary
This week’s theme - war poems with unusual perspectives
(1839-1902)
What first attracted me to today’s poem was its striking originality - both the first person voice from bullet’s point of view, and the casting of the narrative as a tragic love poem. Indeed, insofar as concept and content can be separated, the former is definitely the predominant note in today’s poem. The actual execution, however, lacks the passion that the poet’s theme seems to call for, so that despite an interesting verse structure and some nice imagery, all that I am left with at the end is the idea itself.
Even so, this is definitely a noteworthy poem, and prompts this week’s theme
- a series of poems with unusual perspectives on war. I’m not going to try and define exactly what I mean by ‘unusual’, but if you know a poem that you think would fit the theme, do send it in.
— Martin
Links
Biography of Harte:
http://www.bartleby.com/226/2110.html
A nice companion piece to today’s poem: