Mesopotamia

tags: Mesopotamia, Rudyard Kipling, poetry, National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month, and I plan to post one poem per day, every day this month (If you have a favorite poem that you'd like me to share, feel free to email it to me). Today's poem was suggested by a reader and friend who writes that "my favourite poet is Kipling; sad to say, this [poem] is as appropriate today as it was 91 years ago. The question is still valid and I fear we'll do nothing, as our ancestors did nothing, those who embroiled us in the war will retire in comfort and assumed honour. The dead will lie forgotten and unmourned except by those who loved them."

Mesopotamia

They shall not return to us, the resolute, the young,
The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave:
But the men who left them thriftily to die in their own dung,
Shall they come with years and honour to the grave?

They shall not return to us; the strong men coldly slain
In sight of help denied from day to day:
But the men who edged their agonies and chid them in their pain,
Are they too strong and wise to put away?

Our dead shall not return to us while Day and Night divide--
Never while the bars of sunset hold.
But the idle-minded overlings who quibbled while they died,
Shall they thrust for high employments as of old?

Shall we only threaten and be angry for an hour:
When the storm is ended shall we find
How softly but how swiftly they have sidled back to power
By the favour and contrivance of their kind?

Even while they soothe us, while they promise large amends,
Even while they make a show of fear,
Do they call upon their debtors, and take counsel with their friends,
To conform and re-establish each career?

Their lives cannot repay us -- their death could not undo --
The shame that they have laid upon our race.
But the slothfulness that wasted and the arrogance that slew,
Shall we leave it unabated in its place?

-- Rudyard Kipling, Rudyard Kipling: Complete Verse (Anchor; 1988).