Before the Charge - Patrick MacGill

At 11 o'clock down at the local war memorial I may be wearing my Irish Poppy label along with my poppy . Sadly it will have a biologically incorrect leaf behind it as I haven't been to Scotland in order to get one from there.

But as a mark of the fact that 49,900 from this island gave their lives in the Great War 1914-1918, more from the South than from the North, more Catholic than Protestant. This year I've decided to share a poem from one of the Irish War poets Patrick MacGill.


Before the Charge

The night is still and the air is keen,
Tense with menace the time crawls by,
In front is the town and its homes are seen,
Blurred in outline against the sky.
The dead leaves float in the sighing air,
The darkness moves like a curtain drawn,
A veil which the morning sun will tear
From the face of death. – We charge at dawn.