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Mon, May 30, 11 at 12:20
| He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust, But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust. If we who sight along it round the world, See nothing worthy to have been its mark, It is because like men we look too near, Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere, Our missiles always make too short an arc. They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect The curve of earth, and striking, break their own; They make us cringe for metal-point on stone. But this we know, the obstacle that checked And tripped the body, shot the spirit on Further than target ever showed or shone. The Soldier by Robert Frost |
Follow-Up Postings:
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| This is poignant and beautiful and universal! Thank you! |
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| What a fitting quote for Memorial Day. Thank you. |
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| The absolute futility of war is apparent in that short poem of Frost's. |
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| Thank you, ej; very appropriate. |
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