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The Penguin Book of First World War Poetry

Page 14

by Various Contributors


  Wife and Country

  Dear, let me thank you for this:

  That you made me remember, in fight,

  England – all mine at your kiss,

  At the touch of your hands in the night:

  England – your giving’s delight.

  Gilbert Frankau

  Girl to Soldier on Leave

  I love you – Titan lover,

  My own storm-days’ Titan.

  Greater than the son of Zeus,

  I know whom I would choose.

  Titan – my splendid rebel –

  The old Prometheus

  Wanes like a ghost before your power –

  His pangs were joys to yours.

  Pallid days arid and wan

  10 Tied your soul fast.

  Babel-cities’ smoky tops

  Pressed upon your growth

  Weary gyves. What were you

  But a word in the brain’s ways,

  Or the sleep of Circe’s swine?

  One gyve holds you yet.

  It held you hiddenly on the Somme

  Tied from my heart at home.

  O must it loosen now? I wish

  20 You were bound with the old old gyves.

  Love! you love me – your eyes

  Have looked through death at mine.

  You have tempted a grave too much.

  I let you – I repine.

  Isaac Rosenberg

  The Pavement

  In bitter London’s heart of stone,

  Under the lamplight’s shielded glare

  I saw a soldier’s body thrown

  Unto the drabs that traffic there

  Pacing the pavements with slow feet:

  Those old pavements whose blown dust

  Throttles the hot air of the street,

  And the darkness smells of lust.

  The chaste moon, with equal glance,

  10 Looked down on the mad world, astare

  At those who conquered in sad France

  And those who perished in Leicester Square.

  And in her light his lips were pale:

  Lips that love had moulded well:

  Out of the jaws of Passchendaele

  They had sent him to this nether hell.

  I had no stone of scorn to fling,

  For I know not how the wrong began –

  But I had seen a hateful thing

  20 Masked in the dignity of man:

  And hate and sorrow and hopeless anger

  Swept my heart, as the winds that sweep

  Angrily through the leafless hanger

  When winter rises from the deep…

  *

  I would that war were what men dream:

  A crackling fire, a cleansing flame,

  That it might leap the space between

  And lap up London and its shame.

  Francis Brett Young

  Not to Keep

  They sent him back to her. The letter came

  Saying…And she could have him. And before

  She could be sure there was no hidden ill

  Under the formal writing, he was in her sight,

  Living. They gave him back to her alive –

  How else? They are not known to send the dead –

  And not disfigured visibly. His face?

  His hands? She had to look, to ask,

  ‘What is it, dear?’ And she had given all

  10 And still she had all – they had – they the lucky!

  Wasn’t she glad now? Everything seemed won,

  And all the rest for them permissible ease.

  She had to ask, ‘What was it, dear?’

  ‘ Enough,

  Yet not enough. A bullet through and through,

  High in the breast. Nothing but what good care

  And medicine and rest, and you a week,

  Can cure me of to go again.’ The same

  Grim giving to do over for them both.

  20 She dared no more than ask him with her eyes

  How was it with him for a second trial.

  And with his eyes he asked her not to ask.

  They had given him back to her, but not to keep.

  Robert Frost

  Going Back

  The night turns slowly round,

  Swift trains go by in a rush of light;

  Slow trains steal past.

  This train beats anxiously, outward bound.

  But I am not here.

  I am away, beyond the scope of this turning;

  There, where the pivot is, the axis

  Of all this gear.

  I, who sit in tears,

  10 I, whose heart is torn with parting;

  Who cannot bear to think back to the departure platform;

  My spirit hears

  Voices of men,

  Sound of artillery, aeroplanes, presences,

  And more than all, the dead-sure silence,

  The pivot again.

  There, at the axis

  Pain, or love, or grief

  Sleep on speed; in dead certainty;

  20 Pure relief.

  There, at the pivot

  Time sleeps again.

  No has-been, no here-after, only the perfected

  Silence of men.

  D. H. Lawrence

  The Other War

  ‘I wore a tunic’

  I wore a tunic,

  A dirty khaki-tunic,

  And you wore civilian clothes.

  We fought and bled at Loos

  While you were on the booze,

  The booze that no one here knows.

  Oh, you were with the wenches

  While we were in the trenches

  Facing the German foe.

  10 Oh, you were a-slacking

  While we were attacking

  Down the Menin Road.

  Soldiers’ song

  ‘Blighters’

  The House is crammed: tier beyond tier they grin

  And cackle at the Show, while prancing ranks

  Of harlots shrill the chorus, drunk with din;

  ‘We’re sure the Kaiser loves the dear old Tanks!’

  I’d like to see a Tank come down the stalls,

  Lurching to rag-time tunes, or ‘Home, Sweet Home,’ –

  And there’d be no more jokes in Music-halls

  To mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume.

  Siegfried Sassoon

  Ragtime

  A minx in khaki struts the limelit boards:

  With false moustache, set smirk, and ogling eyes

  And straddling legs and swinging hips she tries

  To swagger it like a soldier, while the chords

  Of rampant ragtime jangle, clash and clatter,

  And over the brassy blare and drumming din

  She strains to squirt her squeaky notes and thin

  Spittle of sniggering lascivious patter.

  Then out into the jostling Strand I turn,

  10 And down a dark lane to the quiet river,

  One stream of silver under the full moon,

  And think of how cold searchlights flare and burn

  Over dank trenches where men crouch and shiver,

  Humming, to keep their hearts up, that same tune.

  Wilfrid Gibson

  Ragtime

  The lamps glow here and there, then echo down

  The vast deserted vistas of the town –

  Each light the echo’d note of some refrain

  Repeated in the city’s fevered brain.

  Yet all is still, save when there wanders past

  – Finding the silence of the night too long –

  Some tattered wretch, who, from the night outcast,

  Sings, with an aching heart, a comic song.

  The vapid parrot-words flaunt through the night –

  10 Silly and gay, yet terrible. We know

  Men sang these words in many a deadly fight,

  And threw them – laughing – to a solemn foe;

  S
ang them where tattered houses stand up tall and stark,

  And bullets whistle through the ruined street,

  Where live men tread on dead men in the dark,

  And skulls are sown in fields once sown with wheat

  Across the sea, where night is dark with blood

  And rockets flash, and guns roar hoarse and deep,

  They struggle through entanglements and mud,

  20 They suffer wounds – and die –

  But here they sleep.

  From far away the outcast’s vacuous song

  Re-echoes like the singing of a throng;

  His dragging footfalls echo down the street,

  And turn into a myriad marching feet.

  Osbert Sitwell

  The Admonition: To Betsey

  Remember, on your knees,

  The men who guard your slumbers –

  And guard a house in a still street

  Of drifting leaves and drifting feet,

  A deep blue window where below

  Lies moonlight on the roofs like snow,

  A clock that still the quarters tells

  To the dove that roosts beneath the bell’s

  Grave canopy of silent brass

  10 Round which the little night winds pass

  Yet stir it not in the grey steeple;

  And guard all small and drowsy people

  Whom gentlest dusk doth disattire,

  Undressing by the nursery fire

  In unperturbed numbers

  On this side of the seas –

  Remember, on your knees,

  The men who guard your slumbers.

  Helen Parry Eden

  Air-Raid

  Night shatters in mid-heaven: the bark of guns,

  The roar of planes, the crash of bombs, and all

  The unshackled skiey pandemonium stuns

  The senses to indifference, when a fall

  Of masonry nearby startles awake,

  Tingling, wide-eyed, prick-eared, with bristling hair,

  Each sense within the body, crouched aware

  Like some sore-hunted creature in the brake.

  Yet side by side we lie in the little room

  10 Just touching hands, with eyes and ears that strain

  Keenly, yet dream-bewildered, through tense gloom,

  Listening, in helpless stupor of insane

  Cracked nightmare panic, fantastically wild,

  To the quiet breathing of our sleeping child.

  Wilfrid Gibson

  Zeppelins

  I saw the people climbing up the street

  Maddened with war and strength and thought to kill;

  And after followed Death, who held with skill

  His torn rags royally, and stamped his feet.

  The fires flamed up and burnt the serried town,

  Most where the sadder, poorer houses were;

  Death followed with proud feet and smiling stare,

  And the mad crowds ran madly up and down.

  And many died and hid in unfound places

  10 In the black ruins of the frenzied night;

  And Death still followed in his surplice, white

  And streaked in imitation of their faces.

  *

  But in the morning, men began again

  To mock Death following in bitter pain.

  Nancy Cunard

  ‘Education’

  The rain is slipping, dripping down the street;

  The day is grey as ashes on the hearth.

  The children play with soldiers made of tin,

  While you sew

  Row after row.

  The tears are slipping, dripping one by one;

  Your son has shot and wounded his small brother.

  The mimic battle’s ended with a sob,

  While you dream

  10 Over your seam.

  The blood is slipping, dripping drop by drop;

  The men are dying in the trenches’ mud.

  The bullets search the quick among the dead.

  While you drift,

  The Gods sift.

  The ink is slipping, dripping from the pens,

  On papers, White and Orange, Red and Grey, –

  History for the children of to-morrow, –

  While you prate

  20 About Fate.

  War is slipping, dripping death on earth.

  If the child is father of the man,

  Is the toy gun father of the Krupps?

  For Christ’s sake think!

  While you sew

  Row after row.

  Pauline Barrington

  Socks

  Shining pins that dart and click

  In the fireside’s sheltered peace

  Check the thoughts that cluster thick –

  20 plain and then decrease.

  He was brave – well, so was I –

  Keen and merry, but his lip

  Quivered when he said good-bye –

  Purl the seam-stitch, purl and slip.

  Never used to living rough,

  10 Lots of things he’d got to learn;

  Wonder if he’s warm enough –

  Knit 2, catch 2, knit 1, turn.

  Hark! The paper-boys again!

  Wish that shout could be suppressed;

  Keeps one always on the strain –

  Knit off 9, and slip the rest.

  Wonder if he’s fighting now,

  What he’s done and where he’s been;

  He’ll come out on top, somehow –

  20 Slip 1, knit 2, purl 14.

  Jessie Pope

  A War Film

  I saw,

  With a catch of the breath and the heart’s uplifting,

  Sorrow and pride,

  The ‘week’s great draw’ –

  The Mons Retreat;

  The ‘Old Contemptibles’ who fought, and died,

  The horror and the anguish and the glory.

  As in a dream,

  Still hearing machine-guns rattle and shells scream,

  10 I came out into the street.

  When day was done,

  My little son

  Wondered at bath-time why I kissed him so,

  Naked upon my knee.

  How could he know

  The sudden terror that assaulted me?…

  The body I had borne

  Nine moons beneath my heart,

  A part of me…

  20 If, someday,

  It should be taken away

  To War. Tortured. Torn.

  Slain.

  Rotting in No Man’s Land, out in the rain –

  My little son…

  Yet all those men had mothers, every one.

  How should he know

  Why I kissed and kissed and kissed him, crooning his name?

  He thought that I was daft.

  30 He thought it was a game,

  And laughed, and laughed.

  Theresa Hooley

  The War Films

  O living pictures of the dead,

  O songs without a sound,

  O fellowship whose phantom tread

  Hallows a phantom ground –

  How in a gleam have these revealed

  The faith we had not found.

  We have sought God in a cloudy Heaven,

  We have passed by God on earth:

  His seven sins and his sorrows seven,

  10 His wayworn mood and mirth,

  Like a ragged cloak have hid from us

  The secret of his birth.

  Brother of men, when now I see

  The lads go forth in line,

  Thou knowest my heart is hungry in me

  As for thy bread and wine:

  Thou knowest my heart is bowed in me

  To take their death for mine.

  Sir Henry Newbolt

  The Dancers

  (During a Great Battle, 1916)

  The floors are slippery with blood:

  The world gyrates too. God is
good

  That while His wind blows out the light

  For those who die hourly for us –

  We can still dance, each night.

  The music has grown numb with death –

  But we will suck their dying breath,

  The whispered name they breathed to chance,

  To swell our music, make it loud

  10 That we may dance, – may dance.

  We are the dull blind carrion-fly

 

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