Katja Labonté’s Reviews > A Treasury of War Poetry British and American Poems of the World War 1914-1917 > Status Update
Katja Labonté
is 40% done
Burned from the ore's rejected dross,
The iron whitens in the heat.
With plangent strokes of pain & loss
The hammers on the iron beat.
Searched by the fire, through death & dole
We feel the iron in our soul.
O dreadful Forge! if torn & bruised
The heart, more urgent comes our cry
Not to be spared but to be used,
Brain, sinew, & spirit, before we die.
Beat out the iron, edge it keen,
And shape us to the end we mean!
— Oct 16, 2021 05:23AM
The iron whitens in the heat.
With plangent strokes of pain & loss
The hammers on the iron beat.
Searched by the fire, through death & dole
We feel the iron in our soul.
O dreadful Forge! if torn & bruised
The heart, more urgent comes our cry
Not to be spared but to be used,
Brain, sinew, & spirit, before we die.
Beat out the iron, edge it keen,
And shape us to the end we mean!
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Katja’s Previous Updates
Katja Labonté
is 64% done
Our little hour,—how short a tune
To wage our wars, to fan our hates,
To take our fill of armoured crime,
To troop our banners, storm the gates.
Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red,
Blind in our puny reign of power,
Do we forget how soon is sped
Our little hour?
— Nov 16, 2021 05:19AM
To wage our wars, to fan our hates,
To take our fill of armoured crime,
To troop our banners, storm the gates.
Blood on the sword, our eyes blood-red,
Blind in our puny reign of power,
Do we forget how soon is sped
Our little hour?
Katja Labonté
is 63% done
The falling rain is music overhead,
The dark night, lit by no Intruding star,
Fit covering yields to thoughts that roam afar
And turn again familiar paths to tread,
Where many a laden hour too quickly sped
In happier times, before the dawn of war,
Before the spoiler had whet his sword to mar
The faithful living and the mighty dead.
— Nov 12, 2021 07:07AM
The dark night, lit by no Intruding star,
Fit covering yields to thoughts that roam afar
And turn again familiar paths to tread,
Where many a laden hour too quickly sped
In happier times, before the dawn of war,
Before the spoiler had whet his sword to mar
The faithful living and the mighty dead.
Katja Labonté
is 60% done
All that a man might ask thou hast given me, England,
Yet grant thou one thing more:
That now when envious foes would spoil thy splendour,
Unversed in arms, a dreamer such, as I,
May in thy ranks be deemed not all unworthy,
England, for thee to die.
— Nov 06, 2021 03:35PM
Yet grant thou one thing more:
That now when envious foes would spoil thy splendour,
Unversed in arms, a dreamer such, as I,
May in thy ranks be deemed not all unworthy,
England, for thee to die.
Katja Labonté
is 53% done
So there was the whole picture,
The lovely early morning, the occasional shell
Screeching and scattering past us, the empty landscape,—
Empty, except for the young Gunner saluting,
And the cat, anxiously watching his every movement.
— Oct 28, 2021 11:17AM
The lovely early morning, the occasional shell
Screeching and scattering past us, the empty landscape,—
Empty, except for the young Gunner saluting,
And the cat, anxiously watching his every movement.
Katja Labonté
is 50% done
Led by Wilhelm, as you tell,
God has done extremely well;
You with patronizing nod
Show that you approve of God.
Kaiser, face a question new—
This—does God approve of you?
I can hear Susan from Rilla of Ingleside reading this poem 🤣
— Oct 24, 2021 03:51AM
God has done extremely well;
You with patronizing nod
Show that you approve of God.
Kaiser, face a question new—
This—does God approve of you?
I can hear Susan from Rilla of Ingleside reading this poem 🤣
