Part 3 (1/2)
V.--AT THE WARS
Now that I am ta'en away, And may not see another day, What is it to my eye appears?
What sound rings in my stricken ears?
Not even the voice of any friend Or eyes beloved-world-without-end, But scenes and sounds of the countryside In far England across the tide: An upland field when Spring's begun, Mellow beneath the evening sun....
A circle of loose and lichened wall Over which seven red pines fall....
An orchard of wizen blossoming trees Wherein the nesting chaffinches Begin again the self-same song All the late April day-time long....
Paths that lead a shelving course Between the chalk scarp and the gorse By English downs; and, O! too well I hear the hidden, clanking bell Of wandering sheep.... I see the brown Twilight of the huge empty down....
Soon blotted out! for now a lane Glitters with warmth of May-time rain, And on a shooting briar I see A yellow bird who sings to me.
O yellow-hammer, once I heard Thy yaffle when no other bird Could to my sunk heart comfort bring; But now I would not have thee sing, So sharp thy note is with the pain Of England I may not see again!
Yet sing thy song: there answereth Deep in me a voice which saith: ”_The gorse upon the twilit down, The English loam so sunset brown, The bowed pines and the sheep-bells' clamour, The wet, lit lane and the yellow-hammer, The orchard and the chaffinch song, Only to the Brave belong.
And he shall lose their joy for aye If their price he cannot pay, Who shall find them dearer far Enriched by blood after long War._”
VI.--OUT OF TRENCHES: THE BARN, TWILIGHT
In the raftered barn we lie, Sprawl, scrawl postcards, laugh and speak-- Just mere men a trifle weary, Worn in heart, a trifle weak: Because alway At close of day Thought steals to England far away....
”Alf!” ”O ay.”
”Gi' us a tune, mate.” ”Well, wot say?”
”Swipe 'The Policeman's 'Oliday'....”
”_Tiddle-iddle-um-tum_, _Tum_-TUM.”
Sprawling on my aching back, Think I nought; but I am glad-- Dear, rare lads of pick and pack!
Aie me too! I'm sad.... I'm sad: Some must die (Maybe I): O pray it take them suddenly!
”Bill!” ”Wot ho!”
”Concertina: let it go-- 'If you were the Only Girl.'” ”Cheero!”
”_If you were the Only Girl._”
d.a.m.n. 'Abide with Me....' Not now!-- Well ... if you must: just your way.
It racks me till the tears nigh flow.
The tune see-saws. I turn, I pray Behind my hand, Shaken, unmanned, In groans that G.o.d may understand: Miracle!
”Let, let them all survive this h.e.l.l.”
Hear 'Trumpeter, what are you sounding?' swell.
(My G.o.d! I guess indeed too well: The broken heart, eyes front, proud knell!) Grant but mine sound with their farewell.
”_It's the Last Post I'm sounding._”
VII.--BATTERY MOVING UP TO A NEW POSITION FROM REST CAMP: DAWN
Not a sign of life we rouse In any square close-shuttered house That flanks the road we amble down Toward far trenches through the town.
The dark, snow-slushy, empty street....
Tingle of frost in brow and feet....