Poetical Pictures of the Great War Suitable for Recitation. First Series ... Second Series ... Third Series ... Fourth Series. By Mackenzie Bell |
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| IN THE FRENCH TRENCHES. |
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 | Poetical Pictures of the Great War |  |
IN THE FRENCH TRENCHES.
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It is said that a French private soldier, colloquially “un poilu” of volatile disposition, bought a small Bible one day, soon after the war began, on one of the Quais at Paris; and that, when in subsequent danger and fear, he opened it in the trenches, almost inadvertently he found the words: “Be strong, fear not,” and was impelled thereby to do his duty. The Legion of Honour is usually designated merely as “The Legion.”
Strange is my Paris, here and now,
My Paris once so gay,
No heart have I to sit and drink
An absinthe here to-day.
My Paris once so gay,
No heart have I to sit and drink
An absinthe here to-day.
Achille is gone, and tall Jean, too,
And where we used to sit,
At Père Odette's, why, there I see
Scarce one, when lights are lit.
And where we used to sit,
At Père Odette's, why, there I see
Scarce one, when lights are lit.
At noontide where we used to play
Vive l'Amour in the shade
Talk they of wounds, talk they of death,
Or how the shells are made.
Vive l'Amour in the shade
Talk they of wounds, talk they of death,
Or how the shells are made.
I'm glad that I'm “un poilu” now,
I'm glad that I must go,
For naught can check “the vapours” like
Swift marching to and fro.
I'm glad that I must go,
For naught can check “the vapours” like
Swift marching to and fro.
Cold is the night, cold is my heart,
And yet no coward I;
Yet cold it is to sit and think,
And cold 'tis here to lie.
And yet no coward I;
Yet cold it is to sit and think,
And cold 'tis here to lie.
Cold is my heart for tall Jean's sake
'Twas here, just here, he died;
Cold is my heart for Achille's sake,
Here, bleeding, by my side.
'Twas here, just here, he died;
Cold is my heart for Achille's sake,
Here, bleeding, by my side.
Cheerless it is, and gloomy, too,
As breaks the heavy day.
I'll read the Book I bought erewhile
To wile the hour away.
As breaks the heavy day.
I'll read the Book I bought erewhile
To wile the hour away.
Ah! here it is: never before
Have I read such a Book,
At such a time little it recks
In what I read, or look.
Have I read such a Book,
At such a time little it recks
In what I read, or look.
I turn the page: “Be strong, fear not,”
The very word for me,
For lo! the cannonade begins,
The shot fall heavily.
The very word for me,
For lo! the cannonade begins,
The shot fall heavily.
“Be strong, fear not!” Where am I now?
This place, large-roomed, high-walled,
Brings back no memories; yet they say
'Twas mine, when Duty called
This place, large-roomed, high-walled,
Brings back no memories; yet they say
'Twas mine, when Duty called
To hurl the Boches rearward; and they say
That, while I lie at rest,
“Mon Général” will come and pin
“The Legion” on my breast.
That, while I lie at rest,
“Mon Général” will come and pin
“The Legion” on my breast.
France's Day, 1915.
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