The Last Post

Robert Graves

The bugler sent a call of high romance
Lights out! Lights out! to the deserted square.
On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer,
God, if its this for me next time in France
O spare the phantom bugle as I lie
Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns,
Dead in a row with the other broken ones
Lying so stiff and still under the sky,
Jolly young Fusiliers too good to die. 

Next 10 Poems

• Robert Graves : The Naked And The Nude
• Robert Graves : The Next War
• Robert Graves : The Persian Version
• Robert Graves : The Poet In The Nursery
• Robert Graves : The Shivering Beggar
• Robert Graves : The Snapped Thread
• Robert Graves : The Spoilsport
• Robert Graves : The Thieves
• Robert Graves : The Travellers' Curse After Misdirection
• Robert Graves : The Troll's Nosegay

Previous 10 Poems

• Robert Graves : The Lady Visitor In The Pauper Ward
• Robert Graves : The Frog And The Golden Ball
• Robert Graves : The Cruel Moon
• Robert Graves : The Cottage
• Robert Graves : The Cool Web
• Robert Graves : The Caterpillar
• Robert Graves : The Bough Of Nonsense
• Robert Graves : The Beach
• Robert Graves : The Assault Heroic
• Robert Graves : Symptoms Of Love