Leslie Coulson
Watch the white dawn gleam,
To the thunder of hidden guns.
I hear the hot shells scream
Through skies as sweet as a dream
Where the silver dawn-break runs.
And stabbing of light
Scorches the virginal white.
But I feel in my being the old, high, sanctified thrill,
And I thank the gods that the dawn is beautiful still.
From death that hurtles by
I crouch in the trench day-long,
But up to a cloudless sky
From the ground where our dead men lie
A brown lark soars in song.
Through the tortured air,
Rent by the shrapnel’s flare,
Over the troubleless dead he carols his fill,
And I thank the gods that the birds are beautiful still.
Where the parapet is low
And level with the eye
Poppies and cornflowers glow
And the corn sways to and fro
In a pattern against the sky.
The gold stalks hide
Bodies of men who died
Charging at dawn through the dew to be killed or to kill.
I thank the gods that the flowers are beautiful still.
When night falls dark we creep
In silence to our dead.
We dig a few feet deep
And leave them there to sleep –
But blood at night is red,
Yea, even at night,
And a dead man’s face is white.
And I dry my hands, that are also trained to kill,
And I look at the stars – for the stars are beautiful still.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem presents a stark, almost surreal contrast between the beauty of nature and the violence of war, exploring how a soldier reconciles the brutality of conflict with the persistence of beauty in the world around him. The speaker repeatedly acknowledges the continuing existence of beauty — in the dawn, in birdsong, in flowers, and in the night sky — even as they witness the horrors of war and death. Yet, the beauty that the speaker praises never feels untainted. It is constantly juxtaposed with suffering and violence, forcing the reader to confront the tension between these two extremes.
The poem opens with a vivid, almost surreal description of dawn. The “white dawn gleams” in the light of the “thunder of hidden guns,” immediately setting up the contradictory imagery that pervades the poem: a peaceful, pure dawn marred by the violence of war. The shelling continues with “hot shells scream,” and although the sky is described as “sweet as a dream,” it is also one “rent by shrapnel’s flare.” The contrast between the “virginal white” of the dawn and the violence of war is jarring, yet the speaker feels “the old, high, sanctified thrill” despite the destruction. There’s a strange sense of exhilaration in this moment — not just in the beauty of the dawn, but in the soldier’s response to the violence. The speaker’s conflicting feelings capture a kind of numb acceptance of the horrors of war, as well as a longing to hold on to beauty in spite of it.
As the poem progresses, the speaker moves from the visual beauty of the dawn to the sounds of nature amidst the violence. The lark soaring through the “tortured air” is a particularly powerful image, showing life and beauty continuing in the midst of destruction. The bird’s song is a stark contrast to the “shrapnel’s flare” and the surrounding violence. Yet, the speaker once again feels the need to affirm: “I thank the gods that the birds are beautiful still.” In these lines, there is both an appreciation of the natural world and a sense of disbelief that it continues to exist in such stark contrast to the horrors unfolding below. The lark’s song, symbolic of life’s persistence, offers a momentary respite from the violence, yet it is caught in the larger tragic context of war.
The third stanza moves to a more grounded, earthly image: the poppies and cornflowers growing in the trenches. These flowers, which in other contexts might be symbols of peace and beauty, are now growing “where the parapet is low / And level with the eye.” The poppies, often associated with war and remembrance, are seen here as both beautiful and tragic, growing amidst the bodies of the dead. The imagery of the “gold stalks” hiding “bodies of men who died” evokes the carnage of war, while the flowers themselves continue to bloom regardless of the death surrounding them. Again, the speaker repeats, “I thank the gods that the flowers are beautiful still,” highlighting the persistent beauty of nature despite the human cost.
In the final stanza, the poem takes on a more somber tone. As night falls, the soldiers “creep / In silence to our dead,” and the reality of death becomes even more tangible. The line “We dig a few feet deep / And leave them there to sleep” is matter-of-fact, almost detached, which contrasts with the emotional weight of burying the dead. The description of blood being red and a dead man’s face being white is blunt and stark, underscoring the visceral reality of war. Despite this, the soldier looks up at the stars, a symbol of timeless beauty and order in a world filled with chaos. The stars, “beautiful still,” provide a final, quiet moment of reflection in the midst of violence, offering a faint, distant sense of hope or meaning amidst the carnage.
The repeated refrain — “I thank the gods that [the dawn, birds, flowers, stars] are beautiful still” — runs throughout the poem like a mantra, emphasizing the soldier’s gratitude for nature’s resilience in the face of war. However, there is something almost resigned about the speaker’s gratitude. Each assertion of beauty is tinged with the awareness of its fragility, and the repetition itself suggests a kind of compulsive need to cling to beauty in the face of overwhelming destruction. The beauty is not untouched by the realities of war; rather, it is surrounded and inextricably bound to it. The soldier’s acknowledgment of nature’s continued beauty is not just a celebration, but also a form of coping with the horrors that they endure.
In terms of structure, the poem is straightforward but powerful. The simple, rhythmic repetition of the lines serves as a reminder of the speaker’s attempts to hold on to beauty in an increasingly brutal world. The tone shifts from a sense of awe and thrill in the opening stanza to a quieter, more resigned acceptance in the final one. Through this, the poem encapsulates the emotional conflict of a soldier: the simultaneous awareness of the beauty of life and the grim, unrelenting violence of war. The beauty that the soldier clings to becomes, in a sense, a form of survival — a way to find meaning or solace amid the horror.
In conclusion, this poem is a meditation on the persistence of beauty amid violence, and on the complex emotions that arise in response to the atrocities of war. Through the soldier’s eyes, the reader is shown a world where beauty — whether in the form of dawn, birdsong, flowers, or the stars — continues to exist, even as war ravages the land and the lives of those who fight. The poem’s emotional weight comes from its ability to show the inescapable tension between the joy of living and the horror of death, and the speaker’s constant need to affirm that beauty endures, even in the most dire of circumstances.