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