On the 11th day of the 11th month at the 11th hour, WWI ended. It was called the Great War at the time. A war when in a battle 100,000 men would die in the first minute of going over the top of the trenches. It was brutal and the blood lust was unreal. In many respects, WWII was an extention of it. So, to honor the day, I thought I would post one of the most famous poems to come out of that war and there was some good poetry in the war. This one though, is probably the most recognizable and worth another read.

‘Rendezvous with Death’ by Alan Seeger killed in 1916.

 I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air—
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath—
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear…
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.