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Revision as of 02:47, 12 November 2020 edit undoCarcharoth (talk | contribs)Administrators73,576 edits revert to previous version of pageTag: Manual revertNext edit → |
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:''This is a Misplaced Pages user page. For the fictional wolf of this name, see ].'' |
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__NOTOC__ |
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{{userpage}} |
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{{administrator}} |
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==Preamble== |
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{{quotation|They mingle not with laughing comrades again;<br/> |
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Section for notices and other matters. |
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They sit no more at familiar tables of home;<br/> |
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*For details of content work, see links below. |
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They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;<br/> |
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They sleep beyond England's foam.<p> |
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==Userspace== |
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But where our desires are and our hopes profound,<br/> |
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*], of which the currently most relevant links are: |
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Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,<br/> |
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**] |
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To the innermost heart of their own land they are known<br/> |
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**] |
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As the stars are known to the Night;<p> |
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==Other accounts== |
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As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,<br/> |
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*] (moderately active) |
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Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;<br/> |
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*] (less active) |
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As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,<br/> |
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*] (rarely active) |
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To the end, to the end, they remain.|excerpted from '']'' by ]}} |
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{{User Wikipedian For|year=2005|month=1|day=8}} |
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{{quotation|It was April we left Lemnos, shining sea and snow-white camp,<br /> |
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{{User wikipedia/Administrator}} |
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Passing onward into darkness. Lemnos shone a golden lamp,<br /> |
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{{clear}} |
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As a low harp tells of thunder, so the lovely Lemnos air<br /> |
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Whispered of the dawn and battle; and we left a comrade there.<p> |
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He who sang of dawn and evening, English glades and light of Greece,<br /> |
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Changed his dreaming into sleeping, left his sword to rest in peace.<br /> |
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Left his visions of the springtime, Holy Grail and Golden Fleece,<br /> |
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Took the leave that has no ending, till the waves of Lemnos cease.<p> |
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There will be enough recorders ere this fight of ours be done,<br /> |
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And the deeds of men made little, swiftly cheapened one by one;<br /> |
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Bitter loss his golden harpstrings and the treasure of his youth;<br /> |
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Gallant foe and friend may mourn him, for he sang the knightly truth.<p> |
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Joy was his in his clear singing, clean as is the swimmer's joy;<br /> |
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Strong the wine he drank of battle, fierce as that they poured in Troy.<br /> |
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Swift the shadows steal from Athos, but his soul was morning-swift,<br /> |
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Greek and English he made music, caught the cloud-thoughts we let drift.<p> |
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Sleep you well, you rainbow comrade, where the wind and light is strong,<br /> |
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Overhead and high above you, let the lark take up your song.<br /> |
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Something of your singing lingers, for the men like me who pass,<br /> |
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Till all singing ends in sighing, in the sighing of the grass.|'']'' <nowiki>]<nowiki>]</nowiki> by ]}} |
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