diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/63882-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/63882-0.txt | 2490 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 2490 deletions
diff --git a/old/63882-0.txt b/old/63882-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1f05ae3..0000000 --- a/old/63882-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2490 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of War's Embers, by Ivor Gurney - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: War's Embers - -Author: Ivor Gurney - -Release Date: November 26, 2020 [EBook #63882] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - available at The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR'S EMBERS *** - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - SEVERN AND SOMME, 1917 - - - - - WAR’S EMBERS - AND OTHER VERSES - - BY - IVOR GURNEY - - LONDON: SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD. - 3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI, W.C.2. 1919 - - - _First published in 1919_ - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - -TO - -M. M. S. - - - _O, if my wishes were my power,_ - _You should be praised as were most fit,_ - _Whose kindness cannot help but flower._ - - _But since the fates have ordered it_ - _Otherwise, then ere the hour_ - _Of darkness deaden all my wit_ - - _I’ll write: how all my art was poor,_ - _My mind too thought-packed to acquit_ - _My debt ... And only, “Thanks once more.”_ - - - - -A few of the poems in this volume have already appeared in print: “The -Volunteer,” “In a Ward,” and “The Battalion is now on Rest” in _The -Spectator_; “The Immortal Hour” in _The Westminster Gazette_; “The Day -of Victory” in _The Gloucester Journal_; and “After Music” in _The -R.C.M, Magazine_. The author desires to thank the respective editors for -their kind permission to include these poems in the present collection. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -DEDICATION: TO M. M. S. 7 - -THE VOLUNTEER 13 - -THE FARM 15 - -OMENS 18 - -ETERNAL TREASURE 19 - -FIRE IN THE DUSK 20 - -TURMUT-HOEING 21 - -IN A WARD 22 - -CAMPS 23 - -GIRL’S SONG 25 - -SOLACE OF MEN 26 - -DAY-BOYS AND CHORISTERS 27 - -AT RESERVE DEPOT 29 - -TOASTS AND MEMORIES 30 - -FROM THE WINDOW 32 - -YPRES--MINSTERWORTH 33 - -NEAR MIDSUMMER 34 - -TOUSSAINTS 36 - -THE STONE-BREAKER 38 - -DRIFTING LEAVES 40 - -CONTRASTS 41 - -TO F. W. H. 43 - -THE IMMORTAL HOUR 44 - -TO HIS LOVE 45 - -MIGRANTS 46 - -OLD MARTINMAS EVE 48 - -AFTER MUSIC 49 - -THE TARGET 50 - -TWIGWORTH VICARAGE 51 - -HOSPITAL PICTURES: - - 1. LADIES OF CHARITY 52 - - 2. DUST 53 - - 3. “ABERDONIAN” 55 - - 4. COMPANION--NORTH-EAST DUGOUT 56 - - 5. THE MINER 57 - - 6. UPSTAIRS PIANO 58 - -HIDDEN TALES 61 - -RECOMPENSE 62 - -THE TRYST 63 - -THE PLAIN 64 - -RUMOURS OF WARS 65 - -“ON REST” 67 - -DICKY 70 - -THE DAY OF VICTORY 71 - -PASSIONATE EARTH 75 - -THE POPLAR 76 - -DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER) 77 - -FROM OMIECOURT 79 - -LE COQ FRANÇAIS 80 - -THE FISHERMAN OF NEWNHAM 82 - -THE LOCK-KEEPER 83 - -THE REVELLERS 84 - -“ANNIE LAURIE” 85 - -THE BATTALION IS NOW ON REST 86 - -PHOTOGRAPHS 87 - -THAT COUNTY 89 - -INTERVAL 90 - -DE PROFUNDIS 91 - -THE TOWER 93 - - - - -WAR’S EMBERS - - - - -THE VOLUNTEER - -(TO A. L. B.) - - - I would test God’s purposes: - I will go up and see - What fate He’ll give, what destiny - His hand holds for me. - - For God is very secret, - Slow-smiles, but does not say - A word that will foreshadow - Shape of the coming day. - - Curious am I, curious ... - And since He will not tell - I’ll prove Him, go up against - The naked mouth of Hell. - - And what hereafter--Heaven? - Or Blighty? O if it were ... - Mere agony, mere pain the price - Of the returning there. - - Or--nothing! Days in mud - And slush, then other days ... - Aie me! “Are they not all - The seas of God”; God’s Ways? - - - - -THE FARM - -(TO MRS. HARVEY AND THOSE OTHERS) - - - A creeper-covered house, an orchard near; - A farmyard with tall ricks upstanding clear - In golden sunlight of a late September.---- - How little of a whole world to remember! - How slight a thing to keep a spirit free! - Within the house were books, - A piano, dear to me, - And round the house the rooks - Haunted each tall elm tree; - Each sunset crying, calling, clamouring aloud. - - And friends lived there of whom the house was proud, - Sheltering with content from wind and storm, - Them loving gathered at the hearthside warm, - (O friendly, happy crowd!) - Caress of firelight gave them, touching hair - And cheeks and hands with sombre gleams of love, - (When day died out behind the lovely bare - Network of twigs, orchard and elms apart; - When rooks lay still in round dark nests above, - And Peace like cool dew comforted the heart.) - The house all strangers welcomed, but as strangers kept - For ever them apart - From its deep heart, - That hidden sanctuary of love close guarded; - Having too great a honey-heap uphoarded - Of children’s play, men’s work, lightly to let - Strangers therein; - Who knew its stubborn pride, and loved the more - The place from webbed slate roof to cellar floor-- - Hens clucking, ducks, all casual farmyard din. - How empty the place seemed when Duty called - To harder service its three sons than tending - Brown fruitful good earth there! But all’s God’s sending. - Above the low barn where the oxen were stalled - The old house watched for weeks the road, to see - Nothing but common traffic; nothing its own. - It had grown to them so used, so long had known - Their presences; sheltered and shared sorrow and glee, - No wonder it felt desolate and left alone ... - That must remember, nothing at all forget. - My mind (how often!) turned and returned to it, - When in queer holes of chance, bedraggled, wet, - Lousy I lay; to think how by Severn-side - A house of steadfastness and quiet pride - Kept faith to friends (when hope of mine had died - Almost to ash). And never twilight came - With mystery and peace and points of flame-- - Save it must bring sounds of my Severn flowing - Steadily seawards, orange windows glowing - Bright in the dusk, and many a well-known name. - - - - -OMENS - - (TO E. H.) - - - Black rooks about the trees - Are circling slow; - Tall elms that can no ease - Nor comfort know, - Since that the Autumn wind - Batters them before, behind, - A bitter breeze unkind. - - They call like tongues of dread - Prophesying woe, - Rooks on the sunset red, - Not heeding how - Their clamouring brings near - To a woman the old fear - For her far soldier dear. - - That harsh and idle crying - Of mere annoy - Tells her how men are dying, - And how her boy - May lie, his racked thought turning - To the home fire on the hearth burning, - The last agony be learning. - - - - -ETERNAL TREASURE - - (TO H. N. H.) - - - Why think on Beauty as for ever lost - When fire and steel have worked their evil will, - Since Beauty lasts beyond decaying dust, - And in the after-dark is lovely still? - We are no phantoms; Body is but the case - Of an immortal Flame that does not perish, - Can the all-withering power of Time outface, - Since God Himself with love that flame does cherish. - Take comfort then, and dare the dangerous thing, - Death flouting with his impotence of wrath; - For Beauty arms us ’gainst his envious sting, - Safes us in any the most perilous path. - Come then, O brothers, greet what may befall - With Joy, for Beauty’s Maker ordereth all. - - - - -FIRE IN THE DUSK - - - When your white hands have lost their fairy power, - Like dimpling water flash and charm no more, - Quick pride of grace is still, closed your bright eyes-- - I still must think, under those Northern skies, - Some influence shall remain of all that sweet; - Some flower of courage braving Easter sleet; - Colour to stir tears in tenderest skies; - Music of light. Your Autumn beeches shall - Set passion blazing in a heart until - Colour you gave be fashioned in formal line - On line; another’s beauty prove divine, - And all your wandering grace shall not be lost - To earth, being too precious, too great of cost-- - Last wonder to awake the divine spark, - A lovely presence lighting Summer’s dark; - Though dust your frame of flesh, such dust as makes - Blue radiance of March in hidden brakes.... - Pass from your body then, be what you will, - Whose light-foot walk outdanced the daffodil, - Since Time can but confirm you and fulfil - That hidden crescent power in you--Old Time, - Spoiler of pride, and towers, and breath, and rhyme, - Yet on the spirit impotent of power and will. - - - - -TURMUT-HOEING - - - I straightened my back from turmut-hoeing - And saw, with suddenly opened eyes, - Tall trees, a meadow ripe for mowing, - And azure June’s cloud-circled skies. - - Below, the earth was beautiful - Of touch and colour, fair each weed, - But Heaven’s high beauty held me still, - Only of music had I need. - - And the white-clad girl at the old farm, - Who smiled and looked across at me, - Dumb was held by that strong charm - Of cloud-ships sailing a foamless sea. - - - - -IN A WARD - - (TO J. W. H.) - - - O wind that tosses free - The children’s hair; - Scatters the blossom of - Apple and pear; - Blow in my heart, touch me, - Gladden me here. - - You have seen so many things-- - Blow in and tell - Tales of white sand and golden - ’Gainst the sea swell. - Bring me fine meadow-thoughts, - Fresh orchard smell. - - Here we must stare through glass - To see the sun-- - Stare at flat ceilings white - Till day is done: - While you, sunshine, starshine, - May out and run. - - Blow in and bring us all - Dear home-delight-- - Green face of the Spring earth, - Blue of deep night. - Blot each of our faces - From the others’ sight. - - - - -CAMPS - - - Out of the line we rest in villages - Quiet indeed, where heal the spirit’s scars; - But even so, lapped deep in sunshine and ease, - We are haunted for ever by the shapes of wars. - - Green in the sun they lie, secret, deserted, - Lovely against the blue the summits show, - Where once the bright steel sang, the red blood spurted, - And brave men cowed their terrors long ago. - - By day their life was easy; but at night, - Even now, one hears strange rustlings in the bush; - And, straining tensely doubtful ear and sight, - The stealthy moving ere the sudden rush; - - And flinches from the spear. War’s just-bright embers - That Earth still keeps and treasures for the pride - In sacrifice there shown; with love remembers - The beauty and quick strength of men that died. - - Who died as we may die, for Freedom, beauty - Of common living, calmly led in peace, - Yet took the flinty road and hard of duty, - Whose end was life abundant and increase. - - But--when Heaven’s gate wide opening receives us - Victors and full of song, forgetting scars; - Shall we see to stir old memories, to grieve us, - Heaven’s never-yet-healed sores of Michael’s wars? - - - - -GIRL’S SONG - - - The tossing poplar in the wind - Shows underleaf of silver-white; - The roughness of the wind unkind - Torments her out of all delight. - But O that he were here - Whose blows and whose caresses alike were dear! - - The great oak to the tearing blast - Stands steady with strong arms held wide, - So over him my anger passed, - When his rough usage hurt my pride. - But O that once again - I might arouse that passion, endure that pain! - - - - -SOLACE OF MEN - - - Sweet smelling, sweet to handle, fair of hue - Tobacco is. The soldier everywhere - Takes it as friend, its friendliness to share, - Whether in fragrant wreaths it mount faint blue - In dug-out low, or surreptitiously to - Parapet in rimy night, from hidden lair - Of sentry; staying hunger, stilling fear-- - The old dreams of comfort bringing anew. - For from that incense grows the stuff of dreams, - And in those clouds a drowsing man may find - All that was ever sweet to his starved mind, - Heart long denied--dear friends, hills, horses, trees, - Slopes of brown ploughland, sunset’s fading gleams ... - The bane of care, the spur to memories. - - - - -DAY-BOYS AND CHORISTERS - - (TO THE BOYS OF KING’S SCHOOL, GLOUCESTER, 1900-1905) - - - Under the shade of the great Tower - Where pass the goodly and the wise, - Year in, year out, winter and summer, - With scufflings and excited cries, - Football rages, not told in pages - Of Fame whereof the wide world hears; - A battle of divided Empire-- - The day-boys and the choristers. - - CHORUS - So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over, - And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane; - The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower-- - When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again. - - Golf balls, tennis balls, cricket and footballs, - Balls of all sizes and sorts were sent - Soaring by wall and arch and ivy - High, high over to banishment. - (Poor owner that loses!) And oh! but the bruises, - Scars, and red hacks to cover the brave - Shins of the boldest, when up and down playground - Victory surged, Victory, edged like a wave. - - CHORUS - So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over, - And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane, - The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower-- - When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again. - - Little they knew, those boys, how in Flanders - And plains of France, in another day - A trial dreadful of nerve and sinew - For four long years should test alway - That playtime pluck, that yet should carry - Them through Hell’s during worst, and how - Europe should honour them, a whole world praise them, - Though Death tore their bodies and laid them low. - - CHORUS - So here’s to the room where the dark beams cross over, - And here’s to the cupboard where hides the cane; - The paddock and fives-court, great chestnut, tall tower-- - When Fritz stops his fooling we’ll see them again. - - - - -AT RESERVE DEPOT - - - When Spring comes here with early innocency - Of pale high blue, they’ll put Revally back. - The passers-by carelessly amused will see - Breakfastless boys killing the patient sack. - - And there will be manœuvres where the violet shows, - Hiding its dark fervour, guarding its flame, - Where I shall lie and stare while the mystery grows - Huge and more huge, till the Sergeant calls my name. - - - - -TOASTS AND MEMORIES - - (TO THE MEN OF THE 2/5 GLOUCESTER REGIMENT) - - - When once I sat in estaminets - With trusty friends of mine, - We drank to folk in England - And pledged them well in wine, - - While thoughts of Gloucester filled us-- - Roads against windy skies - At sunset, Severn river, - Red inn-blinds, country cries. - - That stung the heart with sorrow - And barbéd sweet delight - At Riez Bailleul, Laventie, - At Merville, many a night. - - Now I am over Channel - I cannot help but think - Of friends who stifle longing - With friendly food and drink. - - “Where’s Gurney now, I wonder, - That smoked a pipe all day; - Sometimes that talked like blazes, - Sometimes had naught to say?” - - And I, at home, must wonder - Where all my comrades are: - Those men whose Heart-of-Beauty - Was never stained by War. - - - - -FROM THE WINDOW - - - Tall poplars in the sun - Are quivering, and planes, - Forgetting the day gone, - Its cold un-August rains; - But with me still remains - The sight of beaten corn, - Crushed flowers and forlorn, - The summer’s wasted gains-- - Yet pools in secret lanes - Abrim with heavenly blue - Life’s wonder mirror anew. - I must forget the pains - Of yesterday, and do - Brave things--bring loaded wains - The bare brown meadows through, - I must haste, I must out and run, - Wonder, till my heart drains - Joy’s cup, as in high champagnes - Of blue, where great clouds go on - With white sails free from stains - Full-stretched, on fleckless mains-- - With captain’s joy of some proud galleon. - - - - -YPRES--MINSTERWORTH - - (TO F. W. H.) - - - Thick lie in Gloucester orchards now - Apples the Severn wind - With rough play tore from the tossing - Branches, and left behind - Leaves strewn on pastures, blown in hedges, - And by the roadway lined. - - And I lie leagues on leagues afar - To think how that wind made - Great shoutings in the wide chimney, - A noise of cannonade-- - Of how the proud elms by the signpost - The tempest’s will obeyed-- - - To think how in some German prison - A boy lies with whom - I might have taken joy full-hearted - Hearing the great boom - Of Autumn, watching the fire, talking - Of books in the half gloom. - - O wind of Ypres and of Severn - Riot there also, and tell - Of comrades safe returned, home-keeping - Music and Autumn smell. - Comfort blow him and friendly greeting, - Hearten him, wish him well! - - - - -NEAR MIDSUMMER - - - Severn’s most fair to-day! - See what a tide of blue - She pours, and flecked alway - With gold, and what a crew - Of seagulls snowy white - Float round her to delight - Villagers, travellers. - A brown thick flood is hers - In winter when the rains - Wash down from Midland plains, - Halting wayfarers, - Low meadows flooding deep - With torrents from the steep - Mountains of Wales and small - Hillocks of no degree-- - Streams jostling to the sea; - (Wrangling yet brotherly). - Blue June has altered all-- - The river makes its fall - With murmurous still sound, - Past Pridings faëry ground, - And steep-down Newnham cliff.... - O Boys in trenches, if - You could see what any may - (Escaping town for the day), - Strong Severn all aglow, - But tideless, running slow: - Far Cotswolds all a-shimmer, - Blue Bredon leagues away-- - Huge Malverns, farther, dimmer ... - Then you would feel the fire - Of the First Days inspire - You, when, despising all - Save England’s, honour’s call, - You dared the worst for her: - Faced all things without fear, - So she might stand alway - A free Mother of men; - High Queen as on this day. - There would flood through you again - The old faith, the old pride - Wherein our fathers died, - Whereby our land was builded and dignified. - - - - -TOUSSAINTS - - (TO J. W. H.) - - - Like softly clanging cymbals were - Plane-trees, poplars Autumn had - Arrayed in gloriously sad - Garments of beauty wind-astir; - It was the day of all the dead-- - - Toussaints. In sombre twos and threes - Between those coloured pillars went - Drab mourners. Full of presences - The air seemed ... ever and anon rent - By a slow bell’s solemnities. - - The past year’s gloriously dead - Came, folk dear to that rich earth - Had given them sustenance and birth, - Breath and dreams and daily bread, - Took labour-sweat, returned them mirth. - - Merville across the plain gleamed white, - The thronged still air gave never a sound, - Only, monotonous untoned - The bell of grief and lost delight. - Gay leaves slow fluttered to the ground. - - Sudden, that sense of peace and prayer - Like vapour faded. Round the bend - Swung lines of khaki without end.... - Common was water, earth and air; - Death seemed a hard thing not to mend. - - - - -THE STONE-BREAKER - - (TO DOROTHY) - - - The early dew was still untrodden, - Flawless it lay on flower and blade, - The last caress of night’s cold fragrance - A freshness in the young day made. - - The velvet and the silver floor - Of the orchard-close was gold inlaid - With spears and streaks of early sunlight-- - Such beauty makes men half afraid. - - An old man at his heap of stones - Turned as I neared his clinking hammer, - Part of the earth he seemed, the trees, - The sky, the twelve-hour heat of summer. - - “Fine marnen, zür!” And the earth spoke - From his mouth, as if the field dark red - On our right hand had greeted me - With words, that grew tall grain instead. - - * * * * * - - Oh, years ago, and near forgot! - Yet, as I walked the Flemish way, - An hour gone, England spoke to me - As clear of speech as on that day; - Since peasants by the roadway working - Hailed us in tones uncouth, and one - Turned his face toward the marching column, - Fronted, took gladness from the sun. - - And straight my mind was set on singing - For memory of a wrinkled face, - Orchards untrodden, far to travel, - Sweet to find in my own place. - - - - -DRIFTING LEAVES - - - The yellow willow leaves that float - Down Severn after Autumn rains - Take not of trouble any note-- - Lost to the tree, its joys and pains. - - But man that has a thousand ties - Of homage to his place of birth, - Nothing surrenders when he dies; - But yearns for ever to his earth-- - - Red ploughlands, trees that friended him, - Warm house of shelter, orchard peace. - In day’s last rosy influence dim - They flock to us without a cease; - - Through fast-shut doors of olden houses - In soundless night the dear dead come, - Whose sorrow no live folk arouses, - Running for comfort hither home. - - Though leaves on tide may idly range, - Grounding at last on some far mire-- - Our memories can never change: - We are bond, we are ruled with Love’s desire. - - - - -CONTRASTS - - - If I were on the High Road - That runs to Malvern Town, - I should not need to read, to smoke, - My fear of death to drown; - Watching the clouds, skies, shadows dappling - The sweet land up and down. - - But here the shells rush over, - We lie in evil holes, - We burrow into darkness - Like rabbits or like moles, - Men that have breathed the Severn air, - Men that have eyes and souls. - - To-day the grass runs over - With ripples like the sea, - And men stand up and drink air - Easy and sweet and free; - But days like this are half a curse, - And Beauty troubles me. - - The shadows under orchards there - Must be as clear and black-- - At Minsterworth, at Framilode-- - As though we had all come back; - Were out at making hay or tedding, - Piling the yellow stack. - - The gardens grow as freshly - On Cotswold’s green and white; - The grey-stone cottage colours - Are lovely to the sight, - As we were glad for dreams there, - Slept deep at home at night; - - While here we die a dozen deaths - A score of times a day; - Trying to keep up heart and not - To give ourselves away. - “Two years longer,” “Peace to-morrow,” - “Some time yet,” they say! - - - - -TO F. W. H. - - - Ink black and lustreless may hold - A passion full of living fire: - Spring’s green the Autumn does enfold-- - Things precious hide their bright in the mire. - - And a whole county’s lovely pride - In one small book I found that made - More real the pictured Severn side - Than crash and shock of cannonade. - - Beneath, more strong than that dread noise - The talk I heard of trees and men, - The still low-murmuring Earth-voice ... - God send us dreams in peace again. - - - - -THE IMMORTAL HOUR - - (TO WINNIE) - - - I have forgotten where the pleasure lay - In resting idle in the summer weather, - Waiting on Beauty’s power my spirit to sway, - Since Life has taken me and flung me hither; - - Here where gray day to day goes dully on, - So evenly, so grayly that the heart - Not notices nor cares that Time is gone - That might be jewelled bright and set apart. - - And yet, for all this weight, there stirs in me - Such music of Joy when some perceivéd flower - Breaks irresistible this crust, this lethargy, - I burn and hunger for that immortal hour - - When Peace shall bring me first to my own home, - To my own hills; I’ll climb and vision afar - Great cloud-fleets line on line up Severn come, - Where winds of Joy shall cleanse the stain of war. - - - - -TO HIS LOVE - - - He’s gone, and all our plans - Are useless indeed. - We’ll walk no more on Cotswold - Where the sheep feed - Quietly and take no heed. - - His body that was so quick - Is not as you - Knew it, on Severn river - Under the blue - Driving our small boat through. - - You would not know him now ... - But still he died - Nobly, so cover him over - With violets of pride - Purple from Severn side. - - Cover him, cover him soon! - And with thick-set - Masses of memoried flowers-- - Hide that red wet - Thing I must somehow forget. - - - - -MIGRANTS - - (TO MRS. TAYLOR) - - - No colour yet appears - On trees still summer fine, - The hill has brown sheaves yet, - Bare earth is hard and set; - But autumn sends a sign - In this as in other years. - - For birds that flew alone - And scattered sought their food - Gather in whirring bands;-- - Starlings, about the lands - Spring cherished, summer made good, - Dark bird-clouds soon to be gone. - - But above that windy sound - A deeper note of fear - All daylight without cease - Troubles the country peace; - War birds, high in the air, - Airplanes shadow the ground. - - Seawards to Africa - Starlings with joy shall turn, - War birds to skies of strife, - Where Death is ever at Life; - High in mid-air may burn - Great things that trouble day. - - Their time is perilous, - Governed by Fate obscure; - But when our April comes - About the thatch-eaved homes,-- - Cleaving sweet air, the sure - Starlings shall come to us. - - - - -OLD MARTINMAS EVE - - - The moon, one tree, one star, - Still meadows far, - Enwreathed and scarfed by phantom lines of white. - November’s night - Of all her nights, I thought, and turned to see - Again that moon and star-supporting tree. - If some most quiet tune had spoken then; - Some silver thread of sound; a core within - That sea-deep silentness, I had not known - Ever such joy in peace, but sound was none-- - Nor should be till birds roused to find the dawn. - - - - -AFTER MUSIC - - - Why, I am on fire now, and tremulous - With sense of Beauty long denied; the first - Opening of floodgate to the glorious burst - Of Freedom from the Fate that limits us - To work in darkness pining for the light, - Thirsting for sweet untainted draughts of air, - Clouds sunset coloured, Music ... O Music’s bare - White heat of silver passion fiercely bright! - While sweating at the foul task, we can taste - No Joy that’s clean, no Love but something lets - It from its power; the wisest soul forgets - What’s beautiful, or delicate, or chaste. - Orpheus drew me (as once his bride) from Hell. - If wisely, her or me, the Gods can tell. - - - - -THE TARGET - - - I shot him, and it had to be - One of us! ’Twas him or me. - “Couldn’t be helped,” and none can blame - Me, for you would do the same. - - My mother, she can’t sleep for fear - Of what might be a-happening here - To me. Perhaps it might be best - To die, and set her fears at rest. - - For worst is worst, and worry’s done. - Perhaps he was the only son ... - Yet God keeps still, and does not say - A word of guidance any way. - - Well, if they get me, first I’ll find - That boy, and tell him all my mind, - And see who felt the bullet worst, - And ask his pardon, if I durst. - - All’s a tangle. Here’s my job. - A man might rave, or shout, or sob; - And God He takes no sort of heed. - This is a bloody mess indeed. - - - - -TWIGWORTH VICARAGE - - (TO A. H. C.) - - - Wakened by birds and sun, laughter of the wind, - A man might see all heart’s desire by raising - His pillowed sleepy head (still apt for lazing - And drowsy thought)--but then a green most kind - Waved welcome, and the rifted sky behind - Showed blue, whereon cloud-ships full-sailed went racing, - Man to delight and set his heart on praising - The Maker of all things, bountiful-hearted, kind. - - May Hill, that half-revealéd tree-clad thing, - Maisemore’s delightful ridge, where Severn flowing - Nourished a wealth of lovely wild things blowing - Sweet as the air--Wainlodes and Ashleworth - To northward showed, a land where a great king - Might sit to receive homage from the whole earth. - - - - -_HOSPITAL PICTURES_ - -(TO THE NURSES OF WARD 24, BANGOUR WAR HOSPITAL, NEAR EDINBURGH) - - - - -1. LADIES OF CHARITY - - - With quiet tread, with softly smiling faces - The nurses move like music through the room; - While broken men (known, technically, as “cases”) - Watch them with eyes late deep in bitter gloom, - As though the Spring were come with all the Graces, - Or maiden April walked the ward in bloom. - - Men that have grown forgetful of Joy’s power, - And old before their time, take courtesy - So sweet of girl or woman, as if some flower - Most strangely fair of Spring were suddenly - Thick in the woods at Winter’s blackest hour-- - The gift unlocked for--lovely Charity. - - Their anguish they forget, and, worse, the slow - Corruption of Joy’s springs; now breathe again - The free breath was theirs so long ago. - Courage renewed makes mock at the old pain. - Life’s loveliness brings tears, and a new glow. - Somehow their sacrifice seems not in vain. - - - - -2. DUST - - - Lying awake in the ward - Long hours as any must, - I wonder where the dust - Comes from, the Dust, the Dust! - That makes their life so hard,-- - The nurses, who must rub - The soon appearing crust - Of green on the bright knob. - - And little bits of fluff, - Dull white upon the floor, - Most soft, most curious stuff - That sidles to the door - When no one sees, and makes - Deep wrinkles and heart-breaks; - Light sighs and curses rough. - - Oh! if a scientist - Of warm and kindly heart - Should live a while apart, - (Old Satan’s tail to twist,) - Poring on crucibles, - Vessels uncanny, till - He won at last to Hell’s - Grand secret of ill-will-- - How Fluff comes and how Dust, - Then nurses all would paint - Cheeks pretty for his sake; - Or stay in prayer awake - All night for that great Saint - Of Cleanliness, that bright - Devoted anchorite; - Brave champion and true knight. - - - - -3. “ABERDONIAN” - - - A soldier looked at me with blue hawk-eyes, - With kindly glances sorrow had made wise, - And talked till all I’d ever read in books - Melted to ashes in his burning looks; - And poets I’d despise and craft of pen, - If, while he told his coloured wonder-tales - Of Glasgow, Ypres, sea mist, spouting whales - (Alive past words or power of writing men), - My heart had not exulted in his brave - Air of the wild woodland and sea wave; - Or if, with each new sentence from his tongue, - My high-triumphing spirit had not sung - As in some April when the world was young. - - - - -4. COMPANION--NORTH-EAST DUGOUT - - - He talked of Africa, - That fat and easy man. - I’d but to say a word, - And straight the tales began. - - And when I’d wish to read, - That man would not disclose - A thought of harm, but sleep; - Hard-breathing through his nose. - - Then when I’d wish to hear - More tales of Africa, - ’Twas but to wake him up, - And but a word to say - - To press the button, and - Keep quiet; nothing more; - For tales of stretching veldt, - Kaffir and sullen Boer. - - O what a lovely friend! - O quiet easy life! - I wonder if his sister - Would care to be my wife.... - - - - -5. THE MINER - - - Indomitable energy controlled - By Fate to wayward ends and to half use, - He should have given his service to the Muse, - To most men shy, to him, her humble soldier, - Frank-hearted, generous, bold. - - Yet though his fate be cross, he shall not tire - Nor seek another service than his own: - For selfless valour and the primal fire - Shine out from him, as once from great Ulysses, - That king without a throne. - - - - -6. UPSTAIRS PIANO - - - O dull confounded Thing, - You will not sing - Though I distress your keys - With thumps; in ecstasies - Of wrath, at some mis-said - Word of the deathless Dead! - - Chopin or dear Mozart, - How must it break your heart - To hear this Beast refuse - The choice gifts of the Muse! - And turn your airy thought - With clumsiness to nought. - - I am guilty too, for I - Have let the fine thing by; - And spoilt high graciousness - With a note more or less; - Whose wandering fingers know - Not surely where they go; - Whose mind most weak, most poor, - Your fire may not endure - That’s passionate, that’s pure. - - And yet, and yet, men pale - (Late under Passchendaele - Or some such blot on earth) - Feel once again the birth - Of joy in them, and know - That Beauty’s not a show - Of lovely things long past. - - And stricken men at last - Take heart and glimpse the light, - Grow strong and comforted - With eyes that challenge night, - With proud-poised gallant head, - And new-born keen delight. - - Beethoven, Schumann, Bach: - These men do greatly lack, - And you have greatly given. - The fervent blue of Heaven - They will see with purer eyes-- - Suffering has made them wise; - Music shall make them sweet. - - If they shall see the stars - More clearly after their wars, - That is a good wage. - Yours is a heritage - Most noble and complete. - And if we, blind, have gone - Where a great glory shone, - Or deaf, where angels sang; - Forgive us, for you, too, - A little blind were, knew - Of weakness, once, the pang; - Of darkness, once, the fear. - - And so, forgive this dear - Pig-hearted chest of strings, - And me, whose heart not sings - Nor triumphs as do yours - Within the Heavenly doors-- - Walking the clear unhindered level floors. - - - - -HIDDEN TALES - - - The proud and sturdy horses - Gather their willing forces, - Unswerving make their courses - Over the brown - Earth that was mowing meadow - A month agone, where shadow - And light in the tall grasses - Quivered and was gone. - - They spoil the nest of plover - And lark, turn up, uncover - The bones of many a lover - Unfamed in tales; - Arrows, old flints of hammers, - The rooks with hungry clamours - Hover around and settle - Seeking full meals. - - Who knows what splendid story - Lies here, what hidden glory - Of brave defeat or victory - This earth might show. - None cares; the surging horses - Gather untiring forces - The keen-eyed farmer after - Guiding the plough. - - - - -RECOMPENSE - - (TO THE MEN OF THE 2/5 GLOUCESTER REGIMENT) - - - I’d not have missed one single scrap of pain - That brought me to such friends, and them to me; - And precious is the smallest agony, - The greatest, willingly to bear again-- - Cruel frost, night vigils, death so often ta’en - By Golgothas untold from Somme to Sea. - Duty’s a grey thing; Friendship valorously - Rides high above all Fortune without stain. - - Their eyes were stars within the blackest night - Of Evil’s trial. Never mariner - Did trust so in the ever-fixéd star - As I in those. And so their laughter sounded-- - Trumpets of Victory glittering in sunlight; - Though Hell’s power ringed them in, and night surrounded. - - - - -THE TRYST - - (TO W. M. C.) - - - In curtain of the hazel wood, - From sunset to the clear-of-star, - An hour or more I feared, but stood-- - My lover’s road was far. - - Until within the ferny brake - Stirred patter feet and silver talk - That set all horror wide awake-- - I fear the fairy folk ... - - That bind with chains and change a maid - From happy smiling to a thing - Better in ground unhallowed laid - Where holy bells not ring. - - And whether late he came or soon - I know not, through a rush of air - Along the white road under the moon - I sped, till the golden square - - Showed of the blind lamplighted; then, - My hand on heart, I slackened, stood ... - Though Robin be the man of men, - I’ll walk no more that wood. - - - - -THE PLAIN - - - The plain’s a waste of evil mire, - And dead of colour, sodden-grey, - The trees are ruined, crumbled the spire - That once made glad the innocent day. - - The host of flowers are buried deep - With friends of mine who held them dear; - Poor shattered loveliness asleep, - Dreaming of April’s covering there. - - Oh, if the Bringer of Spring does care - For Duty valorously done, - Then what sweet breath shall scent the air! - What colour-blaze outbrave the sun! - - - - -RUMOURS OF WARS - - (TO MRS. VOYNICH) - - - On Sussex hills to-day - Women stand and hear - The guns at work alway, - Horribly, terribly clear. - - The doors shake, on the wall - The kitchen vessels move, - The brave heart not at all - May soothe its tortured love, - - Nor hide from truth, nor find - Comfort in lies. No prayer - May calm. All’s naught. The mind - Waits on the throbbing air. - - The frighted day grows dark. - None dares to speak. The gloom - Makes bright and brighter the spark - Of fire in the still room. - - A crazy door shakes free.... - “Dear God!” They stand, they stare ... - A shape eyes cannot see - Troubles blank darkness there. - - She knows, and must go pray - Numb-hearted by the bed - That was his own alway ... - The throbbing hurts her head. - - - - -“ON REST” - - (TO THE MEN OF THE 2/5 GLOUCESTER REGIMENT) - - - It’s a King’s life, a life fit for a King! - To lie safe sheltered in some old hay-loft - Night long, on golden straw, and warm and soft, - Unroused; to hear through dreams dawn’s thrushes sing - “Revally”--drowse again; then wake to find - The bright sun through the broken tiles thick-streaming. - “Revally” real: and there’s an end to dreaming. - “Up, Boys, and Out!” Then O what green, what still - Peace in the orchard, deep and sweet and kind, - Shattered abruptly--splashing water, shout - On shout of sport, and cookhouse vessels banging, - Dixie against dixie musically clanging.-- - The farmer’s wife, searching for eggs, ’midst all - Dear farmhouse cries. A stroll: and then “Breakfast’s up.” - Porridge and bacon! Tea out of a real cup - (Borrowed). First day on Rest, a Festival - Of mirth, laughter in safety, a still air. - “No whizzbangs,” “crumps” to fear, nothing to mind, - Danger and the thick brown mud behind, - An end to wiring, digging, end to care. - Now wonders begin, Sergeants with the crowd - Mix; Corporals, Lance-Corporals, little proud, - Authority forgotten, all goes well - In this our Commonwealth, with tales to tell, - Smokes to exchange, letters of price to read, - Letters of friends more sweet than daily bread. - The Sergeant-major sheathes his claws and lies - Smoking at length, content deep in his eyes. - Officers like brothers chaff and smile-- - Salutes forgotten, etiquette the while, - Comrades and brothers all, one friendly band. - Now through the orchard (sun-dried of dewfall) in - And out the trees the noisy sports begin. - He that is proud of body runs, leaps, turns - Somersaults, hand-turns; the licensed jester flings - Javelins of blunt wit may bruise not pierce; - Ragtimes and any scrap of nonsense sings. - All’s equal now. It’s Rest, none cares, none escapes - The hurtless battering of those kindly japes. - Noon comes, the estaminets open welcome doors, - Men drift along the roads in three and fours, - Enter those cool-paven rooms, and sit - Waiting; many there are to serve, Madame - Forces her way with glasses, all ignores - The impatient clamour of that thirsty jam, - The outcries, catcalls, queries, doubtful wit, - Alike. Newspapers come, “Journal, m’sieur?” - “What’s the news?” “Anything fresh, boy?” “Tell us - what’s new.” - Dinner, perhaps a snooze, perhaps a stroll. - Tea, letters (most like), rations to divide - (Third of a loaf, half, if luck’s our way). - No work, no work, no work! A lovely day! - Down the main street men loiter side by side. - So day goes on blue-domed till the west’s afire - With the sun just sunken, though we cannot see, - Hidden in green, the fall of majesty. - Our hearts are lifted up, fierce with desire - But once again to see the ricks, the farms, - Blue roads, still trees of home in the rich glow; - Life’s pageant fading slower and more slow - Till Peace folds all things in with tender arms. - The last stroll in the orchard ends, the last - Candles are lit in bivvy and barn and cart, - Where comrades talking lie, comfort at heart, - Gladder for danger shared in the hard past, - The stars grow bright ’gainst Heaven’s still-deepening blue, - Lights in the orchard die. “I wonder how - Mother is keeping: she must be sleepy now - As we, yet may be wondering all night through.” - - - - -DICKY - - (TO HIS MEMORY) - - - They found him when the day - Was yet but gloom; - Six feet of scarréd clay - Was ample room - And wide enough domain for all desires - For him, whose glowing eyes - Made mock at lethargies, - Were not a moment still;-- - Can Death, all slayer, kill - The fervent source of those exultant fires? - Nay, not so; - Somewhere that glow - And starry shine so clear astonishes yet - The wondering spirits as they come and go. - Eyes that nor they nor we shall ever forget. - -OMIECOURT. - - - - -THE DAY OF VICTORY - - (TO MY CITY) - - - The dull dispiriting November weather - Hung like a blight on town and tower and tree, - Hardly was Beauty anywhere to see - Save--how fine rain (together - With spare last leaves of creepers once showed wet - As it were, with blood of some high-making passion,) - Drifted slow and slow.... - But steadily aglow - The City was, beneath its grey, and set - Strong-mooded above the day’s inclemency. - - Flaunting from houses, over the rejoicing crowd, - Flags waved; that told how nation against nation - Should war no more, their wounds tending awhile:-- - The sullen vanquished; Victors with heads bowed. - And still the bells from the square towers pealed Victory, - The whole time cried Victory, Victory flew - Banners invisible argent; Music intangible - A glory of spirit wandered the wide air through. - All knew it, nothing mean of fire or common - Ran in men’s minds; none so poor but knew - Some touch of sacred wonder, noble wonder,-- - Thought’s surface moving under; - Life’s texture coarse transfiguring through and through. - - Joking, friendly-quarrelling, holiday-making, - Eddying hither, thither, without stay - That concourse went, squibs, crackers, squibbing, cracking-- - Laughter gay - All common-jovial noises sounded, bugles - triumphing masterful, strident, clear above all, - Hail fellow, cat-call ... - Yet one discerned - A new spirit learnt of pain, some great - Acceptance out of hard endurance learned - And truly; wrested bare of hand from Fate. - The soldier from his body slips the pack, - Staggers, relaxes, crouches, then lies back, - Glad for the end of torment. Here was more. - - A sense of consummation undeserved, - Desire fulfilled beyond dreams, completion - Humbly accepted,--a proud and grateful nation - Took the reward of purpose had not swerved, - But steadily before - Saw out, with equal mind, through alternation - Of hope and doubt--a four-year purge of fire - Changing with sore - Travail the flawed spirit, cleansing desire. - - And glad was I: - Glad--who had seen - By Somme and Ancre too many comrades lie. - It was as if the Woman’s spirit moved - That multitude, never of Man that pays - So lightly for the treasure of his days-- - Of some woman that too greatly had beloved - Yet, willing, half her care of life foregone; - Best half of being losing with her son, - Beloved, beautiful, born-of-agony One.... - - The dull skies wept still. Drooped suddenly - Flags all. No triumph there. - Belgium, the Stars and Stripes, Gaul, Italy, - Britain, assured Mistress, Queen of the Sea, - Forlorn colours showed; rags glory-bare. - Night came, starless, to blur all things over - That strange assort of Life; - Sister, and lover, - Brother, child, wife, - Parent--each with his thought, careless or passioned, - Of those who gave their frames of flesh to cover - From spoil their land and folk, desperately fashioned - Fate stubborn to their will. - - Rain fell, miserably, miserably, and still - The strange crowd clamoured till late, eddied, clamoured, - Mixed, mused, drifted.... The Day of Victory. - - - - -PASSIONATE EARTH - - (TO J. W. H.) - - - Where the new-turned ploughland runs to clean - Edges of sudden grass-land, lovely, green-- - Music, music clings, music exhales, - And inmost fragrance of a thousand tales. - There the heart lifts, the soul takes flight to sing - High at Heaven-gate; but loth for entering - Lest there such brown and green it never find; - Nor feel the sting - Of such a beauty left so far behind. - - - - -THE POPLAR - - (TO MICKY) - - - A tall slim poplar - That dances in - A hidden corner - Of the old garden, - What is it in you - Makes communion - With this wind of Autumn, - The clouds, the sun? - - You must be lonely - Amidst round trees - With their matron-figures - And stubborn knees, - Casting hard glances - Of keen despite - On the lone girl that dances - Silvery white. - - But you are dearer - To sky and earth - Than lime-trees, plane-trees - Of meaner birth. - Your sweet shy beauty - Dearer to us - Than tree-folk, worthy, - Censorious. - - - - -DOWN COMMERCIAL ROAD (GLOUCESTER) - - (TO MY MOTHER) - - - When I was small and packed with tales of desert islands far - My mother took me walking in a grey ugly street, - But there the sea-wind met us with a jolly smell of tar, - A sailorman went past to town with slow rolling gait; - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - The trees and shining sky of June were good enough to see, - Better than books or any tales the sailormen might tell-- - But tops’le spars against the blue made fairyland for me; - The snorting tug made surges like the huge Atlantic swell. - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - Then thought I, how much better to sail the open seas - Than sit in school at spelling-books or sums of grocers’ wares. - And I’d have knelt for pity at any captain’s knees - To go see the banyan tree or white Arctic bears. - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - O Gloucester men about the world that dare the seas to-day, - Remember little boys at school a-studying their best - To hide somehow from Mother, and get clear away - To where the flag of England flies prouder than the rest. - And Gloucester she’s famous in story. - - - - -FROM OMIECOURT - - - O small dear things for which we fight-- - Red roofs, ricks crowned with early gold, - Orchards that hedges thick enfold-- - O visit us in dreams to-night! - - Who watch the stars through broken walls - And ragged roofs, that you may be - Still kept our own and proudly free - While Severn from the Welsh height falls. - - - - -LE COQ FRANÇAIS - - (TO RONALD) - - - After the biting cold of the outer night - It seemed--(“Le Coq Français”)--a palace of light, - And its low roof black-timbered was most fine - After the iron and sandbags of the line. - Easy it was to be happy there! Madame, - Frying a savoury mess of eggs and ham, - Talking the while: of the War, of the crops, her son - Who should see to them, and would, when the War was done. - Of battalions who had passed there, happy as we - To find a house so clean, such courtesy - Simple, sincere; after vigils of frost - The place seemed the seventh Heaven of comfort; lost - In miraculous strange peace and warmth we’d sit - Till the prowling police hunted us out of it-- - Away from café noir, café au lait, vin blanc, - Vin rouge, citron, all that does belong - To the kindly shelter of old estaminets, - Nooked and cornered, with mirth of firelight ablaze-- - Herded us into billets; where candles must show - Little enough comfort after the steady glow - Of that wonderful fireshine. We must huddle us close - In blankets, hiding all but the crimson nose, - To think awhile of home, if the frost would let - Thought flow at all; then sleep, sleep to forget - All but home and old rambles, lovely days - Of maiden April, glamorous September haze, - All darling things of life, the sweet of desire-- - Castles of Spain in the deep heart of the fire. - - - - -THE FISHERMAN OF NEWNHAM - - (TO MY FATHER) - - - When I was a boy at Newnham, - For every tide that ran - Swift on its way to Bollo, - I wished I were a man - To sail out and discover - Where such a tide began. - - But when my strength came on me - ’Tis I must earn my bread: - My Father set me fishing - By Frampton Hock, instead - Of wandering to the ocean-- - Wherever Severn led. - - And now I’ve come to manhood, - Too many cares have I - To think of gallivanting - (A wife and child forbye). - So I must wonder ever - Until time comes to die. - - Then I shall question Peter - Upon the heavenly floor, - What makes the tide in rivers-- - How comes the Severn bore, - And all things he will tell me - I never knew before. - - - - -THE LOCK-KEEPER - - (TO THE MEMORY OF EDWARD THOMAS) - - - A tall lean man he was, proud of his gun, - Of his garden, and small fruit trees every one - Knowing all weather signs, the flight of birds, - Farther than I could hear the falling thirds - Of the first cuckoo. Able at digging, he - Smoked his pipe ever, furiously, contentedly. - Full of old country tales his memory was; - Yarns of both sea and land, full of wise saws - In rough fine speech; sayings his father had, - That worked a twelve-hour day when but a lad. - Handy with timber, nothing came amiss - To his quick skill; and all the mysteries - Of sail-making, net-making, boat-building were his. - That dark face lit with bright bird-eyes, his stride - Manner most friendly courteous, stubborn pride, - I shall not forget, not yet his patience - With me, unapt, though many a far league hence - I’ll travel for many a year, nor ever find - A winter-night companion more to my mind, - Nor one more wise in ways of Severn river, - Though her villages I search for ever and ever. - - - - -THE REVELLERS - - - I saw a silver-bright shield hang - Entangled in the topmost boughs - Of an old elm-tree, and a house - Dreaming; the while a small stream sang - A tune of broken silver by, - And laughed and wondered at the sky. - - A thousand thousand silver lamps - Dared the bright moon of stars. O! who, - Wandering that silver quiet through, - Might heed the river-mists, dew-damps? - All Heaven exulted, but Earth lay - Breathless and tranced in peace alway. - - From the orange-windowed tavern near - A song some ancient lover had-- - When stars and longing made him mad-- - Fashioned from wonder at his dear, - Rang out. Yet none there moves a limb - To see such stars as passioned him. - - The loth moon left the twigs and gazed - Full-fronted at the road, the stream, - That all but tiniest tunes adream - Stilled, held breath at last amazed. - The farmers from their revel came; - But no stars saw, and felt no flame. - - - - -“ANNIE LAURIE” - - (TO H. N. H.) - - - The high barn’s lit by many a guttering flare - Of flickering candle, dangerous--(hence forbidden)-- - To warm soft straw, whereby the cold floor’s hidden, - On which we soon shall rest without a care. - War is forgotten. Gossip fills the air - Of home, and laughter sounds beyond the midden - Under the stars, where Youth makes Joy unchidden - Of gods or men, and mocks at sorrow there. - But hark! what sudden pure untainted passion - Seizes us now, and stills the garrulous? - A song of old immortal dedication - To Beauty’s service and one woman’s heart. - No tears we show, no sign of flame in us - This hour of stars and music set apart. - - - - -THE BATTALION IS NOW ON REST - - (TO “LA COMTESSE”) - - - Walking the village street, to watch the stars and find - Some peace like the old peace, some soothe for soul and mind; - The noise of laughter strikes me as I move on my way - Towards England--Westward--and the last glow of day. - - And here is the end of houses. I turn on my heel, - And stay where those voices a moment made me feel - As I were on Cotswold, with nothing else to do - Than stare at the old houses, to taste the night-dew; - - To answer friendly greetings from rough voices kind.... - Oh, one may try for ever to be calm and resigned, - A red blind at evening sets the poor heart on fire-- - Or a child’s face, a sunset--with the old hot desire. - - - - -PHOTOGRAPHS - -(TO TWO SCOTS LADS) - - - Lying in dug-outs, joking idly, wearily; - Watching the candle guttering in the draught; - Hearing the great shells go high over us, eerily - Singing; how often have I turned over, and laughed - - With pity and pride, photographs of all colours, - All sizes, subjects: khaki brothers in France; - Or mothers’ faces worn with countless dolours; - Or girls whose eyes were challenging and must dance, - - Though in a picture only, a common cheap - Ill-taken card; and children--frozen, some - (Babies) waiting on Dicky-bird to peep - Out of the handkerchief that is his home - - (But he’s so shy!). And some with bright looks, calling - Delight across the miles of land and sea, - That not the dread of barrage suddenly falling - Could quite blot out--not mud nor lethargy. - - Smiles and triumphant careless laughter. O - The pain of them, wide Earth’s most sacred things! - Lying in dugouts, hearing the great shells slow - Sailing mile-high, the heart mounts higher and sings. - - But once--O why did he keep that bitter token - Of a dead Love?--that boy, who, suddenly moved, - Showed me, his eyes wet, his low talk broken, - A girl who better had not been beloved. - - - - -THAT COUNTY - - - Go up, go up your ways of varying love, - Take each his darling path wherever lie - The central fires of secret memory; - Whether Helvellyn tower the lakes above; - Or black Plinlimmon time and tempest prove; - Or any English heights of bravery. - I will go climb my little hills to see - Severn, and Malverns, May Hill’s tiny grove. - - No Everest is here, no peaks of power - Astonish men. But on the winding ways - White in the frost-time, blinding in full June blaze, - A man may take all quiet heart’s delight-- - Village and quarry, taverns and many a tower - That saw Armada beacons set alight. - - - - -INTERVAL - - - To straight the back, how good; to see the slow - Dispersed cloud-flocks of Heaven wandering blind - Without a shepherd, feel caress the kind - Sweet August air, soft drifting to and fro - Meadow and arable.--Leaning on my hoe - I searched for any beauty eyes might find. - The tossing wood showed silver in the wind; - Green hills drowsed wakeful in the golden glow. - - Yet all the air was loud with mutterings, - Rumours of trouble strange in that rich peace, - Where War’s dread birds must practise without cease - All that the stoutest pilot-heart might dare. - Death over dreaming life managed his wings, - Droning dull song in the sun-satiate air. - - - - -DE PROFUNDIS - - - If only this fear would leave me I could dream of Crickley Hill - And a hundred thousand thoughts of home would visit my heart in sleep; - But here the peace is shattered all day by the devil’s will, - And the guns bark night-long to spoil the velvet silence deep. - - O who could think that once we drank in quiet inns and cool - And saw brown oxen trooping the dry sands to slake - Their thirst at the river flowing, or plunged in a silver pool - To shake the sleepy drowse off before well awake? - - We are stale here, we are covered body and soul and mind - With mire of the trenches, close clinging and foul. - We have left our old inheritance, our Paradise behind, - And clarity is lost to us and cleanness of soul. - - O blow here, you dusk-airs and breaths of half-light, - And comfort despairs of your darlings that long - Night and day for sound of your bells, or a sight - Of your tree-bordered lanes, land of blossom and song. - - Autumn will be here soon, but the road of coloured leaves - Is not for us, the up and down highway where go - Earth’s pilgrims to wonder where Malvern upheaves - That blue-emerald splendour under great clouds of snow. - - Some day we’ll fill in trenches, level the land and turn - Once more joyful faces to the country where trees - Bear thickly for good drink, where strong sunsets burn - Huge bonfires of glory--O God, send us peace! - - Hard it is for men of moors or fens to endure - Exile and hardship, or the Northland grey-drear; - But we of the rich plain of sweet airs and pure, - Oh! Death would take so much from us, how should we not fear? - - - - -THE TOWER - - (TO M. H.) - - - On the old road of Roman, on the road - Of chivalry and pride--the path to Wales - Famed in the chronicles and full of tales-- - Westward I went, songs in my mouth, and strode - Free-bodied, light of heart, - Past many a heaped waggon with golden load, - And rumbling carrier’s cart. - When, near the bridge where snorting trains go under - With noise of thunder, - I turned and saw - A tower stand, like an immortal law-- - - Permanent, past the reach of Time and Change, - Yet fair and fresh as any flower wild blown; - As delicate, as fair - As any highest tiny cloudlet sown - Faint in the upper air. - Fragile yet strong, a music that vision seemed. - Though all the land was fair, let the eye range - Whither it will - On plain or hill, - It must return where white the tower gleamed - Wonderful, irresistible, bubble-bright - In the morning light. - - And then I knew, I knew why men must choose - Rather the dangerous path of arms than let - Beauty be broken - That is God’s token, - The sign of Him; why hearts of courage forget - Aught but the need supreme - To follow honour and the perilous thing: - Scorning Death’s sting; - Knowing Man’s faith not founded on a dream. - - -_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAR'S EMBERS *** - -***** This file should be named 63882-0.txt or 63882-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/8/8/63882/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |