Latest editorial
JENNY MITCHELL, poetry co-editor for the Morning Star, introduces her priorities, and her first selection
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
by Charles Sorley
HENRY BELL is sceptical of the notion that ‘progress’ is an ideology that the ruling class uses exclusively to camouflage appropriation
In search of political understanding, MATTHEW HAWKINS welcomes a critique of anti-semitism as codified by the Israeli state
BEN CHACKO welcomes a masterful analysis that puts class struggle back at the heart of our understanding of China’s revolution
JOHN GREEN is intrigued by the ethereal, ghostly quality of images of a London unobscured by the bustle of humanity
JENNY FARRELL relishes an outstanding Palestinian novel that immerses readers in the sensory reality of Gaza, then and now
AI-induced murder, last rites for the mob-dog, a gullible common herd, and an exemplary Christmas chiller
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
Say not soft things as other men have said,
That you’ll remember. For you need not so.
Give them not praise. For, deaf, how should they know
It is not curses heaped on each gashed head?
Nor tears. Their blind eyes see not your tears flow.
Nor honour. It is easy to be dead.
Say only this, “They are dead.” Then add thereto,
“Yet many a better one has died before.”
Then, scanning all the o’ercrowded mass, should you
Perceive one face that you loved heretofore,
It is a spook. None wears the face you knew.
Great death has made all his for evermore.
Charles Sorley was killed at the age of 20 on October 13 1915, in the Battle of Loos.
