The shadows, maimed and antic, Gesture and shape distort, Like mockery of a demon dumb Out of the hell-din whence they come That dogs them for his sport: But as if dead men were risen And stood before me there With a terrible fame about them blown In beams of spectral air, I see them, men transfigured As in a dream, dilate Fabulous with the Titan-throb Of battling Europe's fate; For history's hushed before them, And legend flames afresh,-- Verdun, the name of thunder, Is written on their flesh. _Laurence Binyon_ VERDUN Three hundred thousand men, but not enough To break this township on a winding stream; More yet must fall, and more, ere the red stuff That built a nation's manhood may redeem The Master's hopes and realize his dream. They pave the way to Verdun; on their dust The Hohenzollerns mount and, hand in hand, Gaze haggard south; for yet another thrust And higher hills must heap, ere they may stand To feed their eyes upon the promised land. One barrow, borne of women, lifts them high, Built up of many a thousand human dead. Nursed on their mothers' bosoms, now they lie-- A Golgotha, all shattered, torn and sped, A mountain for these royal feet to tread. A Golgotha, upon whose carrion clay Justice of myriad men still in the womb Shall heave two crosses; crucify and flay Two memories accurs'd; then in the tomb Of world-wide execration give them room. Verdun! A clarion thy name shall ring Adown the ages and the Nations see Thy monuments of glory. Now we bring Thank-offering and bend the reverent knee, Thou star upon the crown of Liberty! _Eden Phillpotts_ GUNS OF VERDUN Guns of Verdun point to Metz From the plated parapets; Guns of Metz grin back again O'er the fields of fair Lorraine. Guns of Metz are long and grey, Growling through a summer day; Guns of Verdun, grey and long, Boom an echo of their song. Guns of Metz to Verdun roar, "Sisters, you shall foot the score;" Guns of Verdun say to Metz, "Fear not, for we pay our debts." Guns of Metz they grumble, "When?" Guns of Verdun answer then, "Sisters, when to guard Lorraine Gunners lay you East again!" _Patrick R. Chalmers_ THE SPIRES OF OXFORD I saw the spires of Oxford As I was passing by, The gray spires of Oxford Against the pearl-gray sky. My heart was with the Oxford men Who went abroad to die. The years go fast in Oxford, The golden years and gay, The hoary Colleges look down On careless boys at play. But when the bugles sounded war They put their games away. They left the peaceful river, The cricket-field, the quad, The shaven lawns of Oxford, To seek a bloody sod-- They gave their merry youth away For country and for God. God rest you, happy gentlemen, Who laid your good lives down, Who took the khaki and the gun Instead of cap and gown. God bring you to a fairer place Than even Oxford town. _Winifred M. Letts_ OXFORD IN WAR-TIME