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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518986" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Repression of War Experience</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518986" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now light the candles; one; two; there’s a moth; <br>What silly beggars they are to blunder in <br>And scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame— <br>No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war, <br>When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;<br>And it’s been proved that soldiers don’t go mad <br>Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts <br>That drive them out to jabber among the trees. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518986" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now light your pipe; look, what a steady hand. <br>Draw a deep breath; stop thinking; count fifteen, <br>And you’re as right as rain...<br>Why won’t it rain?... <br>I wish there’d be a thunder-storm to-night, <br>With bucketsful of water to sluice the dark, <br>And make the roses hang their dripping heads. <br>Books; what a jolly company they are, <br>Standing so quiet and patient on their shelves, <br>Dressed in dim brown, and black, and white, and green, <br>And every kind of colour. Which will you read? <br>Come on; O do read something; they’re so wise. <br>I tell you all the wisdom of the world <br>Is waiting for you on those shelves; and yet <br>You sit and gnaw your nails, and let your pipe out, <br>And listen to the silence: on the ceiling <br>There’s one big, dizzy moth that bumps and flutters; <br>And in the breathless air outside the house<br>The garden waits for something that delays. <br>There must be crowds of ghosts among the trees,— <br>Not people killed in battle,—they’re in France,— <br>But horrible shapes in shrouds—old men who died <br>Slow, natural deaths,—old men with ugly souls,<br>Who wore their bodies out with nasty sins.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518986" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">. . . . <br>You’re quiet and peaceful, summering safe at home; <br>You’d never think there was a bloody war on!... <br>O yes, you would ... why, you can hear the guns. <br>Hark! Thud, thud, thud,—quite soft ... they never cease— <br>Those whispering guns—O Christ, I want to go out <br>And screech at them to stop—I’m going crazy; <br>I’m going stark, staring mad because of the guns.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Siegfried+Sassoon">Siegfried Sassoon</a></strong></div>