 | Poems with Fables in Prose |  |
167
Advance on the Somme
I
Wild airman, you, the battle's eyes,Who, hovering over forest air,
Can every belt of cloud despise
And through them fall without despair,
No cannon's sound to you can rise.
But, say, how goes the battle there,
As they advance?
II
Be dumb, choked heart! for they are dumb—Our men advancing. All's at stake!
The woods are bullet-stript—with hum
Of cannon all the pastures shake;
And some will cross the crest, and some
Will halt for ever in the brake,
As they advance.
III
The ground is bubbling—pit and mire—And blackened with the blood of sons.
Death rains on every yard; and fire
Shuttles the veil with woof of guns.
Dread is flag those weavers dire
Unroll to shroud our gallant ones
As they advance!
168
IV
They followed once—who rode so well—As brave a hunt as e'er blew horn:
And now through warren'd woods of hell
They follow till the fateful morn.
And them the mudstain'd sentinel
Shall watch, and see an age newborn
As they advance!
July 1916.
| Poems with Fables in Prose | |