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Poems: New and Old

By Henry Newbolt
  
  

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A Letter From the Front
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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80

A Letter From the Front

I was out early to-day, spying about
From the top of a haystack—such a lovely morning—
And when I mounted again to canter back
I saw across a field in the broad sunlight
A young gunner subaltern, stalking along
With a rook-rifle held at the ready and—would you believe it?—
A domestic cat, soberly marching behind him.
So I laughed, and felt quite well-disposed to the youngster,
And shouted out “The top of the morning” to him,
And wished him “Good sport!”—and then I remembered
My rank, and his, and what I ought to be doing;
And I rode nearer, and added, “I can only suppose
You have not seen the Commander-in-Chief's orders
Forbidding English officers to annoy their Allies
By hunting and shooting.”
But he stood and saluted
And said earnestly, “I beg your pardon, sir,
I was only going out to shoot a sparrow
To feed my cat with.”

81

So there was the whole picture—
The lovely early morning, the occasional shell
Screeching and scattering past us, the empty landscape—
Empty, except for the young gunner saluting
And the cat, anxiously watching his every movement.
I may be wrong, and I may have told it badly,
But it struck me as being extremely ludicrous.