This book of Francis Ledwidge's poems, 30 of them, appeared in 1918. Ledwidge was killed at the third battle of Ypres on the 31 July 1917, and the final poem in the book, The Lanawn Shee, is dated July 1917. There's a wistful and affectionate Introduction by Lord Dunsany, who was a friend and patron to the young poet.

The most appropriate description of the book's contents is contained in the good Lord's Introduction:
"He has left behind him verses of great beauty, simple rural lyrics that may be something of an anodyne for this stricken age."
And:
"Dynasties shook and the earth shook; and the war, not yet described by any man, revelled and wallowed in destruction around him; and Francis Ledwidge stayed true to his inspiration, as his homeward songs will show."

The final verse of his poem The Dead Kings" (dated January 7th 1917) illustrates Ledwidge's extraordinary ability to separate himself from the chaos and carnage around him:
"And one said: A loud tramp of men
We'll hear again in Rosnaree."
A bomb burst near me where I lay.
I woke, 'twas day in Picardy."

And finally the last two lines of "In France" illustrate the same ability:
" . . The hills of home are in my mind,
And there I wander as I will."

Sadly he didn't wander long after the poem was written.
For me the attraction of his poems is their rural simplicity.