by Louis Simpson
Trees in the old days used to standAnd shape a shady laneWhere lovers wandered hand in handWho came from Carentan.
This was the shining green canalWhere we came two by twoWalking at combat-interval.Such trees we never knew.The day was early June， the groundWas soft and bright with dew.
Far away the guns did sound，But here the sky was blue.The sky was blue， but there a smokeHung still above the seaWhere the ships together spokeTo towns we could not see.
Could you have seen us through a glassYou would have said a walkOf farmers out to turn the grass，Each with his own hay-fork.The watchers in their leopard suitsWaited till it was time，And aimed between the belt and bootAnd let the barrel climb.I must lie down at once， there isA hammer at my knee.And call it death or cowardice，Don’t count again on me.
Everything’s all right， Mother，Everyone gets the sameAt one time or another.It’s all in the game.I never strolled， nor ever shall，Down such a leafy lane.I never drank in a canal，Nor ever shall again.There is a whistling in the leavesAnd it is not the wind，The twigs are falling from the knivesThat cut men to the ground.Tell me， Master-Sergeant，The way to turn and shoot.
But the Sergeant’s silentThat taught me how to do it.O Captain， show us quicklyOur place upon the map.But the Captain’s sicklyAnd taking a long nap.Lieutenant， what’s my duty，My place in the platoon?He too’s a sleeping beauty，Charmed by that strange tune.Carentan O CarentanBefore we met with youWe never yet had lost a manOr known what death could do.
