 | Poems: Second Series |  |
176
STANDING STILL.
God be praised that I stand at last
Facing the enemy, rifle in hand:
Hist! how the bullets whistle past—
And still we wait the word of command,
Though our fellows are dropping fast.
Facing the enemy, rifle in hand:
Hist! how the bullets whistle past—
And still we wait the word of command,
Though our fellows are dropping fast.
When will it be my turn, I wonder:
Where and how am I doomed to die?
Will a sword-blade cleave my skull asunder,
Or the lightning-flash from a battery
Strike me dead ere I hear its thunder?
Where and how am I doomed to die?
Will a sword-blade cleave my skull asunder,
Or the lightning-flash from a battery
Strike me dead ere I hear its thunder?
Will one of those whistling bullets bring
The message of doom, or worse than all
Will a crashing shell leap in and fling
Fragments of death, or shall I fall
Where bayonets clash and ring?
The message of doom, or worse than all
Will a crashing shell leap in and fling
Fragments of death, or shall I fall
Where bayonets clash and ring?
Or is it a boon too precious by far—
Too blest a fate—to die as I stand—
Death 'mid the press and clamour of war—
Death red and hot for the motherland—
For the land where the dear ones are?
Too blest a fate—to die as I stand—
Death 'mid the press and clamour of war—
Death red and hot for the motherland—
For the land where the dear ones are?
177
Mother of nations! Mother of men!
I drank in life at thy Titan breast:
Thine arms of love were around me then,
And if ever I muse how my birth was blest
I am clasped to thy heart again.
I drank in life at thy Titan breast:
Thine arms of love were around me then,
And if ever I muse how my birth was blest
I am clasped to thy heart again.
Mistress of empires! Queen of the sea!
The pulse of a strong exultant hope
Beats in thy breast till it beats in me:
Thou hast given my life an unbounded scope:
I am proud in the pride of thee.
The pulse of a strong exultant hope
Beats in thy breast till it beats in me:
Thou hast given my life an unbounded scope:
I am proud in the pride of thee.
I reap the fruit of the toil and tears,
Of the deeds of heroes that made thee great;
Of the travail throes of a thousand years—
Of the patient courage that conquered fate—
Of doubts and despairing fears.
Of the deeds of heroes that made thee great;
Of the travail throes of a thousand years—
Of the patient courage that conquered fate—
Of doubts and despairing fears.
Each drop of blood that thy children shed—
Each spasm of pain that broke their breath—
For me they suffered—for me they bled:—
O mother's love, I am dumb till death:
I could speak were I cold and dead.
Each spasm of pain that broke their breath—
For me they suffered—for me they bled:—
O mother's love, I am dumb till death:
I could speak were I cold and dead.
Thou knowest how often I strove to break
The fetters of speech for a moment's space:—
How love grew a thirst that I yearned to slake—
How I prayed that Heaven would grant me grace
To strike one blow for thy sake.
The fetters of speech for a moment's space:—
178
How I prayed that Heaven would grant me grace
To strike one blow for thy sake.
One blow for England—however light—
One drop in the stream of her ample life—
One breaking bubble—one foambell white
In one of those whirlpools of eddying strife
That mark her resistless might.
One drop in the stream of her ample life—
One breaking bubble—one foambell white
In one of those whirlpools of eddying strife
That mark her resistless might.
And here I stand—and the fates fulfil
My heart's one wish—my devoutest prayer:
I am standing obedient to England's will:—
Not mine to ask how my comrades fare:—
She has bidden me stand here still.
My heart's one wish—my devoutest prayer:
I am standing obedient to England's will:—
Not mine to ask how my comrades fare:—
She has bidden me stand here still.
I murmur not: I am more than blest:
She has found me a foot of earth to defend:
She has marked me the way I may serve her best:
She judges the issue: she knows the end:—
Mine to work—be the meaning unguessed.
She has found me a foot of earth to defend:
She has marked me the way I may serve her best:
She judges the issue: she knows the end:—
Mine to work—be the meaning unguessed.
So little a work—but I thank God most
For this—that the issue itself is large—
That all may serve it, and none may boast:
The pulse beats high in a cavalry charge—
Is it nothing to hold one's post—
For this—that the issue itself is large—
That all may serve it, and none may boast:
The pulse beats high in a cavalry charge—
Is it nothing to hold one's post—
179
When shells are screaming to left and right?
When grape is falling in scathing showers?
I stand here still with as stern delight,
As ever in fierce exultant hours
Bade hearts beat fast for the fight.
When grape is falling in scathing showers?
I stand here still with as stern delight,
As ever in fierce exultant hours
Bade hearts beat fast for the fight.
Mother of nations! and if I fell
I dare to dream thy love would spare
A sigh—it may be a tear—ah! well,
I hear the voice that accepts my prayer
In the scream of the passing shell.
I dare to dream thy love would spare
A sigh—it may be a tear—ah! well,
I hear the voice that accepts my prayer
In the scream of the passing shell.
| Poems: Second Series | |