The Last Post
The bugler sent a call of high romance—
“Lights out! Lights out!” to the deserted square.
On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer,
“God, if it’s this for me next time in France…
O spare the phantom bugle as I lie
Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns,
Dead in a row with the other broken ones
Lying so stiff and still under the sky,
Jolly young Fusiliers too good to die.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Robert Graves
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on The Last Post
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Last Post here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.