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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=553329" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Francis Ledwidge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=553329" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">(Killed in action July 31, 1917) </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=553329" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Nevermore singing <br>Will you go now, <br>Wearing wild moonlight <br>On your brow. <br>The moon's white mood <br>In your silver mind <br>Is all forgotten. <br>Words of wind <br>From off the hedgerow <br>After rain, <br>You do not hear them; <br>They are vain. <br>There is a linnet <br>Craves a song, <br>And you returning <br>Before long. <br>Now who will tell her, <br>Who can say <br>On what great errand <br>You are away? <br>You whose kindred <br>Were hills of Meath, <br>Who sang the lane-rose <br>From her sheath, <br>What voice will cry them <br>The grief at dawn <br>Or say to the blackbird <br>You are gone?</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=Grace+Hazard+Conkling">Grace Hazard Conkling</a></strong></div>