 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
108
The Full Share
“I take my full share of responsibility for the initiation of
that operation—my full share. . . . I do not propose to adopt
the attitude of a white-sheeted penitent, with a couple of candles,
one in each hand, doing penance and asking for absolution.”
—Mr. Asquith.
I
Do not expect from me
(Whom you have set
In this authority)
Defence, apology,
Excuse or plea,
Or even a regret:
No sheeted penitent
Am I,
To stand
Candle in hand
And cry
That I may be forgiven,
Absolved or shriven,
For what is spilt and spent.
(Whom you have set
In this authority)
Defence, apology,
Excuse or plea,
Or even a regret:
No sheeted penitent
Am I,
To stand
Candle in hand
And cry
That I may be forgiven,
Absolved or shriven,
For what is spilt and spent.
109
All that has happened so
Is so.
I lay it bare;
Admission I make:
The wisest of us err,
The best plans go awry;
Perhaps we blundered sore;
But I would have you know
No one is more
Responsible than I,
And of the accountability I take
My share—and my full share!
Is so.
I lay it bare;
Admission I make:
The wisest of us err,
The best plans go awry;
Perhaps we blundered sore;
But I would have you know
No one is more
Responsible than I,
And of the accountability I take
My share—and my full share!
II
In far Gallipoli
Where Achi frowns to the sea,
And wild war-fires are set;
Stark to the Eastern moon,
There lies,
Huddled in the last agonies,
Beside his shattered gun,
A new-slain English boy:
And his dead eyes
Hint not apologies,
Excuses or regret,
Neither dismay nor joy;
No candles at his head
Nor sheet nor shroud has he,
And by his blood-soaked bed
No shriving words are said.
Where Achi frowns to the sea,
And wild war-fires are set;
Stark to the Eastern moon,
There lies,
Huddled in the last agonies,
Beside his shattered gun,
A new-slain English boy:
And his dead eyes
Hint not apologies,
Excuses or regret,
Neither dismay nor joy;
No candles at his head
Nor sheet nor shroud has he,
110
No shriving words are said.
It is a woman's son—
The child she bare
In England free and fair:
Following the English drum
Hitherward is he come,
So to annul
And break
Himself for England's sake—
He, too, hath taken his share,
And taken it in full.
The child she bare
In England free and fair:
Following the English drum
Hitherward is he come,
So to annul
And break
Himself for England's sake—
He, too, hath taken his share,
And taken it in full.
III
Lord of the Mysteries,Who on the shining air
Launchest despair,
And black, by rose and vine,
Spillest the battle-line;
This is the Bread, and this
The perfumed Wine:
No period dost Thou set
Unto our dole and fret,
Which, being of Thee, are Thine;
Yet, if we yield our breath
To death,
111
This fripperied fardel life,
Help each of us to bear
His share—and his full share!
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |