To His Love
by Ivor Gurney
He’s gone, and all our plans
Are useless indeed.
We’ll walk no more on Cotswold Where the sheep feed Quietly and take no heed. His body that was so quick
Is not as you
Knew it, on Severn river Under the blue
Driving our small boat through. You would not know him now…
But still he died
Nobly, so cover him over With violets of pride Purple from Severn side.
Cover him, cover him soon!
And with thick-set Masses of memoried flowers— Hide that red wet
Thing I must somehow forget.