I WATCHED the boys of England where they went Through mud and water to do appointed things. See one a stake, and one wire-netting brings, And one comes slowly under a burden bent Of ammunition. Though the strength be spent They “carry on” under the shadowing wings Of Death the ever-present. And hark, one sings Although no joy from the grey skies be lent. Are these the heroes--these? have kept from you The power of primal savagery so long? Shall break the devil’s legions? These they are Who do in silence what they might boast to do; In the height of battle tell the world in song How they do hate and fear the face of War. BACH AND THE SENTRY WATCHING the dark my spirit rose in flood On that most dearest Prelude of my delight. The low-lying mist lifted its hood, The October stars showed nobly in clear night. When I return, and to real music-making, And play that Prelude, how will it happen then? Shall I feel as I felt, a sentry hardly waking, With a dull sense of No Man’s Land again? LETTERS “MAIL’S UP!” The vast of night is over, And love of friends fills all one’s mind. (His wife, his sister, or his lover.) Mail’s up, the vast of night is over, The grey-faced heaven joy does cover With love, and God once more seems kind. “Mail’s up!” the vast of night is over, And love of friends fills all one’s mind. STRAFE THE “crumps” are falling twenty to the minute. We crouch, and wait the end of it--or us. Just behind the trench, before, and in it, The “crumps” are falling twenty to the minute; (O Framilode! O Maisemore’s laughing linnet!) Here comes a monster like a motor-bus. The “crumps” are falling twenty to the minute: We crouch and wait the end of it--or us. ACQUIESCENCE SINCE I can neither alter my destiny By one hair’s breadth from its appointed course; Since bribes nor prayers nor any earthly force May from its pathway move a life not free-- I must gather together the whole strength of me. My senses make my willing servitors; Cherish and feed the better, starve the worse; Turn all my pride to proud humility. Meeting the daily shocks and frozen, stony, Cynical face of doubt with smiles and joy-- As a battle with autumn winds delights a boy, Before the smut of the world and the lust of money, Power, and fame, can yet his youth destroy; Ere he has scorned his Father’s patrimony. THE STRONG THING I HAVE seen Death and the faces of men in fear Of Death, and shattered, terribly ruined flesh, Appalled; but through the horror, coloured and clear The love of my county, Gloster, rises afresh.