Archives: Poems

1 
Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant
To the Senior Orderly Man:
“Our Orderly Orf’cer’s hokee-mut,
You ’elp ’im all you can.
For the wine was old and the night is cold,
An’ the best men may go wrong,
So, ’fore ’e gits to the sentry-box,
You pass the word along.”

So it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” at two of a frosty night,
’E’s ’oldin’ on by the sergeant’s sash, but, sentry, shut your eye.
An’ it was “Pass! All’s well!” Oh, ain’t ’e drippin’ tight!
’E’ll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an’-by. 

2 
The moon was white on the barricks,
The road was white an’ wide,
An’ the Orderly Orf’cer took it all,
An’ the ten-foot ditch beside.
An’ the corporal pulled an’ the sergeant pushed,
An’ the three they danced along,
But I’d shut my eyes in the sentry-box,
So I didn’t see nothin’ wrong.

Though it was “Rounds! What Rounds?” O corporal, ’old ’im up!
’E’s usin’ ’is cap as it shouldn’t be used, but, sentry, shut your eye.
An’ it was “Pass! All’s well!” Ho, shun the foamin’ cup!
’E’ll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an’-by. 

3 
’Twas after four in the mornin’;
We ’ad to stop the fun,
An’ we sent ’im ’ome on a bullock-cart,
With ’is belt an’ stock undone;
But we sluiced ’im down an’ we washed ’im out,
An’ a first-class job we made,
When we saved ’im, smart as a bombardier,
For six-o’clock parade.

It ’ad been “Rounds! What Rounds?” Oh, shove ’im straight again!
’E’s usin’ ’is sword for a bicycle, but, sentry, shut your eye.
An’ it was “Pass! All’s well!” ’E’s called me “Darlin’ Jane”!
’E’ll need an affidavit pretty badly by-an’-by. 

4 
The drill was long an’ ’eavy,
The sky was ’ot an’ blue,
An’ ’is eye was wild an’ ’is ’air was wet,
But ’is sergeant pulled ’im through.
Our men was good old trusties—
They’d done it on their ’ead;
But you ought to ’ave ’eard ’em markin’ time
To ’ide the things ’e said!

For it was “Right flank—wheel!” for “’Alt, an’ stand at ease!”
An’ “Left extend!” for “Centre close!” O marker, shut your eye!
An’ it was, “’Ere, sir, ’ere! before the Colonel sees!”
So he needed affidavits pretty badly by-an’-by. 

5 
There was two-an’-thirty sergeants,
There was corp’rals forty-one,
There was just nine ’undred rank an’ file
To swear to a touch o’ sun.
There was me ’e’d kissed in the sentry-box,
As I ’ave not told in my song,
But I took my oath, which were Bible truth,
I ’adn’t seen nothin’ wrong. 
6 
There’s them that’s ’ot an’ ’aughty,
There’s them that’s cold an’ ’ard,
But there comes a night when the best gets tight,
And then turns out the Guard.
I’ve seen them ’ide their liquor
In every kind o’ way,
But most depends on makin’ friends
With Privit Thomas A.!

When it is “Rounds! What Rounds?” ’E’s breathin’ through ’is nose.
’E’s reelin’, rollin’, roarin’ tight, but, sentry, shut your eye.
An’ it is “Pass! All’s well!” An’ that’s the way it goes:
We’ll ’elp ’im for ’is mother, an’ ’e’ll ’elp us by-an’-by! 

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Yusuf the potter told me this today,
In the cool shadow of the Bhatti Gate, 
When a red scorpion stung me and I railed, 
Breaking his mid-day slumber. Yusuf knows 
The tales of all men's tongues.
                                                             'Not His the fault 
Who fashioned all things fair and fit for man
In those six days He laboured. That thy hand 
Fell on the worn, reh–rotten brick which hid 
The evil thing, this much was God's design, 
The beast was fashioned otherwise.'
                                                                           'I wrapped 
Fresh melon-rind above my palm and laughed, 
Because I doubted Yusuf; being young
And, so my brother hulwaies tell me, proud.
 'In the beginning there were seven days',
Growled Yusuf from behind his lime-dyed beard, 
'And seven nights. God laboured in the Light, 
Who is the Light of All Things. By His will,
Who is the Power, Eblis from the Pit
Had power to labour in the night and make 
All things for our discomfort. God is great! 
Alone, afar, at noon-tide Eblis watched, 
Jealous of God, the All Sustainer's work: 
Saw the Great Darkness rent in twain and lit
With Sun and Moon and Stars—beheld the Earth 
Heaved upward from beneath the Waters, green
And trampled by the Cattle—watched the Sea 
Foam with the Children of the Waters—heard 
The voices of the Children of the Woods
Across the branches. Saw and heard and feared,
And strove throughout those Seven Nights of Sin
To mar with evil toil God's handiwork.

O Hassan! Saving Allah there is none
More strong than Eblis. Foul marsh lights he made
To wander and perplex us—errant stars, 
Wild devil-ridden meteors bringing plague—
Deserts of restless sand-drifts-icebound seas 
Wherein is neither Life nor power to live—­ 
Bound Devils to the snow-capped peaks (These vex 
Earth with their struggles)—poured undying fire 
Into the bosoms of the tortured hills,
And filled the belly of the Deep with life 
Unnameable and awful at his will—
Sent forth his birds, the owl, the kite, the crow— 
Grey wolves that haunt our village-gates at dusk: 
Made he his horses and his councillor
The hooded snake-in darkness wove the grass 
That kills our cattle—made the flowers that suck 
Man's life like dew drops—evil seeds and shrub 
That turn the sons of Adam into beasts
Whom Eblis snatches from the sword-wide Bridge
The thing that stung thee and its kind his hands 
Fashioned in mockery and bitter hate—
Dread beasts by land and water all are his. 
Each bears the baser likeness of God's work, 
Distorted, as the shadow of thy face
In water troubled by the breeze.'
                                                                           But here
An Ape from off the chuppar thatch that hangs 
Above my stall, dropped swiftly down and stole 
A double handful of sweet balushai,
Then gibbered overhead among his kin.
I laughed (albeit half my stall was wrecked). 
'Is he the work of Eblis?' Yusuf stretched 
One lean forefinger to the painted shrine
Where Hanuman the idol leaped and grinned
And all his living brethren frisked above:—
'Eblis made Man—behold him-dung and filth
And refuse of the Pit. O Hassan! See
The men of Eblis worshipped by his sons!
Alone, afar, at noon-tide Eblis watched 
The Seven Soils slow moulded into Man,
And feared the living clay God made his lord.
Then the last Night of Sin came down and cloaked
The young and tender world while Eblis wrought.
None knew the secrets of that Night but God. 
"Tis writ the angels shuddered when they heard 
Clamour and lamentation through the dark; 
Cries of huge beasts whom Eblis slew to make 
His Man more perfect; thunders from the Pit
And voices of the Devils and the Djinns 
Rejoicing. It is written Eblis called
Three times to God to stay the flying Night.
Allah Al Bari heard him (He is great!).
And held three times Her pinions till the cries 
Ceased and the work was perfect.'
Mocking the apes with pellets from his wheel:—
Perfect. Then Eblis turned and saw his work
When the Great Darkness lifted. Thus he cried
Amid the laughter of the Sons of God:—
"Lo! what is this I make. Are these his limbs 
Bent inward tottering 'neath the body's weight?
The body crutched by hairy spider arms, 
Surmounted by a face as who should say
Mourning:—Why hast thou made me, wherefore breathed
Spirit in this vile body? Let me be:—
The strange black lips are working with a cry,
A cry and protest while the wrinkled palms 
Are put forth helplessly and beat the dusk.
So did not my great foe when he was made.
I saw his eye quicken with sense of power,
I saw all wild things crouch beneath that eye;
God gave him great dominion over all,
And blessed him. Shall I bless my handiwork? 
After thy kind be fruitful, lust and eat,
All things I give thee in the Earth and Air
Only . . . depart and hide thee in the trees. 
He rises from the ground to do my will
Dumb, limping, crippled. Can the being speak? 
Stay, Thing, and thank me for thy quickening. 
The great eyes roll—my meaning is not there 
Reflected, as God's word was in the Man's.
I, Maker, bid thee speak in Adam's tongue, 
Unto my glory and the scorn of God.

         
              *        *        *        *
 
    
He plucks the grass-tufts aimlessly, and works 
Palm within palm; then, for a moment's space 
Breaks off rough bark and casts it on the ground! 
Accursed, e'en as I am.
                                                            Yet one curse 
Shall sink him lower than the lowest. Stay! 
Man! Inasmuch as thou art made my Man,
From all communion in the woodland tongue 
With beast and bird for ever be debarred.
The Oxen bellow in a thousand keys, 
There is one bellow to the ear of man:
The Lion from the rock-rift calls his mate, 
And Adam hastening folds the fearless flocks, 
Saying:—He roars for hunger. He is wroth 
                                                            Alas! the light
Is flaring forth to mock me. He, my Man, 
Helpless, uprooting grass. While all the world 
Is thick with life renewed that fills my ears
My last, my greatest work is mockery.
Depart O Ape! Depart and leave me foiled!'  

This tale told Yusuf by the Bhatti Gate, 
Mocking the Apes with pellets from his wheel. 
He bade me wrap the melon-rind anew,
And trust in God the Fashioner of Good, 
Seeing the mighty works of Eblis brought 
A half day's torment at the most—or stole 
A double handful of sweet balushai.

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The Devil each night of the seven days of Creation
works in emulation of the Creator and produces
baneful things—fogs, poisonous plants, venomous
creatures, etc.—and at last tries to make a man in
imitation of Adam. He fails, recognises his failure,
and is obliged to own that his power cannot rival that
of the Creator, and that evil is less powerful than good.


Lo! what is this I make! Are these his limbs,
Bent inward, tottering 'neath the body's weight?
The body crutched by hairy spider-arms,
Surmounted by a face as who should say,
'Why hast thou made me? wherefore hast thou breathed
Spirit in this foul body? Let me be!'
The piteous visage puckers with its woe,
The strange black lips are working with a cry—
A cry and protest. Lo! the wrinkled palms
Are stretched forth helplessly and beat the dark.

So did not my great foe when he was made.
I saw his eye glow with the sense of power,
I saw all wild things crouch beneath that eye;
God gave him great dominion over all
And blessed him. Shall I bless my handiwork?
After thy kind be fruitful, lust, and eat;
All things I give thee in the earth and air—
Only depart and hide thee in the trees.

He rises from the ground to do my will
And seek a shelter. Can the being speak?
Stay, thing, and thank me for thy quickening.
The great eyes roll—my meaning is not there
Reflected as God's word was in the man's.
I, maker, bid thee speak, if speak thou canst!
Lo! what is this? My labour is in vain.
He plucks the grass-tufts aimlessly, and works
Palm within palm, then for a moment's space
Breaks off rough bark and throws it on the ground.

He hears me not. Oh! would the dawn delay,
So I might rise and perfect that I make,
Or rise and build again. Alas! the light
Is flaming forth to mock me. See, he sits
Helpless, uprooting grass. While all the world
Is thick with life renewed that fills my ears,
My last and greatest work is mockery.
Depart, O Ape! Depart and leave me foiled.

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1 
Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run,
And the deep soil glistens red, 
I will repair the wrong that was done
To the living and the dead.
Here, where the senseless bullet fell,
And the barren shrapnel burst, 
I will plant a tree, I will dig a well,
Against the heat and the thirst.  
2
Here, in a large and sunlit land 
Where no wrong bites to the bone,
I will lay my hand in my neighbour's hand,
And together we will atone
For the set folly and the red breach
And the black waste of it all;
Giving and taking counsel each
Over the cattle-kraal.  
3
Here we will join against our foes–
The hailstroke and the storm,
And the red and rustling cloud that blows
The locust's mile-deep swarm.
Frost and murrain and flood let loose
Shall launch us side by side
In the holy wars that have no truce
'Twixt seed and harvest-tide. 
4
Earth where we rode to slay or be slain, 
Our love shall redeem unto life. 
We will gather and lead to her lips again 
The waters of ancient strife. 
From the far and the fiercely guarded streams 
And the pools where we lay in wait 
Till the corn cover our evil dreams  
And the young corn our hate.  
5
And when we bring old fights to mind,
We will not remember the sin–
If there be blood on his head of my kind, 
Or blood on my head of his kin–
For the ungrazed upland, the untilled lea
Cry, and the fields forlorn: 
"The dead must bury their dead, but ye–
Ye serve a host unborn."  
6
Bless then, Our God, the new-yoked plough
And the good beasts that draw, 
And the bread we eat in the sweat of our brow 
According to Thy Law. 
After us cometh a multitude–
Prosper the work of our hands, 
That we may feed with our land's food 
The folk of all our lands.  
7
Here, in the waves and the troughs of the plains,
Where the healing stillness lies, 
And the vast benignant sky restrains
And the long days make wise–
Bless to our use the rain and the sun
And the blind seed in its bed, 
That we may repair the wrong that was done 
To the living and the dead!

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"Tommy" you was when it began, 
  But now that it is o'er
You shall be called The Service Man
  'Enceforward evermore. 

Batt'ry, brigade, flank, centre, van,
  Defaulter, Army-corps—
From first to last The Service Man
  'Enceforward evermore. 

From 'Alifax to 'Industan,
  From York to Singapore—
'Orse, foot, an' guns, The Service Man
  'Enceforward evermore!

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1 
’E was warned agin’ ’er—
  That’s what made ’im look;
She was warned agin’ ’im—
   That is why she took.
’Wouldn’t ’ear no reason,
   ’Went an’ done it blind;
We know all about ’em,
    They’ve got all to find! 

Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’—
Give ’em one cheer more!
Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
An’ a rogue is married to a ...  

2 
What’s the use o’ tellin’
  ’Arf the lot she’s been?
’E’s a bloomin’ robber,
  An’ ’e keeps canteen.
’Ow did ’e get ’is buggy?
  Gawd, you needn’t ask!
’Made ’is forty gallon
  Out of every cask! 
3 
Watch ’im, with ’is ’air cut,
  Count us filin’ by—
Won’t the Colonel praise ’is
   Pop—u—lar—i—ty!
We ’ave scores to settle—
  Scores for more than beer;
She’s the girl to pay ’em—
   That is why we’re ’ere! 
4 
See the chaplain thinkin’?
  See the women smile?
Twig the married winkin’
   As they take the aisle?
Keep your side-arms quiet,
   Dressin’ by the Band.
Ho! You ’oly beggars,
   Cough be’ind your ’and! 
5 
Now it’s done an’ over,
   ’Ear the organ squeak,
“’Voice that breathed o’er Eden”—
   Ain’t she got the cheek!
White an’ laylock ribbons,
   Think yourself so fine!
I’d pray Gawd to take yer
   ’Fore I made yer mine! 
6 
Escort to the kerridge,
    Wish ’im luck, the brute!
Chuck the slippers after—
  (Pity ’tain’t a boot!)
Bowin’ like a lady,
  Blushin’ like a lad—
’Oo would say to see ’em
   Both is rotten bad? 

Cheer for the Sergeant’s weddin’—
     Give ’em one cheer more!
Grey gun-’orses in the lando,
     An’ a rogue is married to a ...

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There came to me One at midnight, on golden pinions, and said:
'Lo! I am Love, and I bring thee a passion back from the dead!'
Then I rose in the darkness and lit the lamp, and there shone in my face
The beauty of bygone years and the hope of a bygone grace.

Then I clad myself as of old and sang to myself in joy:
'Shall we change as woman and man who changed not as girl and boy?'
And He entered the room in the midst of my song and we stood apart, 
And I raised my eyes to His eyes, and love died out of my heart. 

But we kissed each other once on the lips, and His lips were cold;
And hand touched hand for a moment, and then we loosened hold.
And His words were as smooth as mine, but His eyes were as carven stone;
And I laid my hand on His wrist, and His pulse was as calm as my own.

Yet I strove to talk of our love as a thing that should have no end,
But the words were changed on my tongue—and I talked as the merest friend.
And he spoke of His hopes and my beauty, our struggles and hundred fears,
As men tell of a dream they have dreamt to their children in after years.

And as children parade the cart, the Noah's Ark and the ball, 
And set them in rank and order, though delight be passed from all.
As men seek for fire in the embers, and rake them and turn them over,
We paraded old love and we sought for new love, I and my Lover.

And then, when the dawn was approaching, He paled in the coming light;
And e’en as He faded from me so Love passed out of my right.

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Who hath desired the Sea? - the sight of salt water unbounded - 
The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?
The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing
Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing - 
His Sea in no showing the same - his Sea and the same 'neath each showing:
His Sea as she slackens or thrills? 
So and no otherwise - so and no otherwise - hillmen desire their Hills! 

Who hath desired the Sea? - the immense and contemptuous surges? 
The shudder, the stumble, the swerve, as the star-stabbing bowsprit emerges?
The orderly clouds of the Trades, the ridged, roaring sapphire thereunder - 
Unheralded cliff-haunting flaws and the headsail's low-volleying thunder - 
His Sea in no wonder the same - his Sea and the same through each wonder:
His Sea as she rages or stills? 
So and no otherwise - so and no otherwise - hillmen desire their Hills.

Who hath desired the Sea? Her menaces swift as her mercies? 
The in-rolling walls of the fog and the silver-winged breeze that disperses?
The unstable mined berg going South and the calvings and groans that declare it - 
White water half-guessed overside and the moon breaking timely to bare it - 
His Sea as his fathers have dared - his Sea as his children shall dare it:
His Sea as she serves him or kills? 
So and no otherwise - so and no otherwise - hillmen desire their Hills. 

Who hath desired the Sea? Her excellent loneliness rather
Than forecourts of kings, and her outermost pits than the streets where men gather
Inland, among dust, under trees - inland where the slayer may slay him -  
Inland, out of reach of her arms, and the bosom whereon he must lay him - 
His Sea from the first that betrayed - at the last that shall never betray him:
His Sea that his being fulfils? 
So and no otherwise - so and no otherwise - hillmen desire their Hills.

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“Some hundreds of the younger naval officers whose education was interrupted
by the War are now to be sent to various colleges at Cambridge to continue their 
studies. The experiment will be watched with great interest.”—Daily Papers.  

1 
“Oh show me how a rose can shut and be a bud again!”
Nay, watch my Lords of the Admiralty, for they have the work in train.
 They have taken the men that were careless lads at Dartmouth in ’Fourteen
 And entered them at the landward schools as though no war had been.
 They have piped the children off all the seas from the Falklands to the Bight,
 And quartered them on the Colleges to learn to read and write! 
2 
Their books were rain and sleet and fog—the dry gale and the snow,
 Their teachers were the horned mines and the hump-backed Death below.
 Their schools were walled by the walking mist and roofed by the waiting skies,
 When they conned their task in a new-sown field with the Moonlight Sacrifice.
 They were not rated too young to teach, nor reckoned unfit to guide
 When they formed their class on Helles’ beach at the bows of the “River Clyde.” 
3 
Their eyes are sunk by endless watch, their faces roughed by the spray,
 Their feet are drawn by the wet sea-boots they changed not night or day
 When they guarded the six-knot convoy’s flank on the road to Norroway.
 Their ears are stuffed with the week-long roar of the West-Atlantic gale
 When the sloops were watching the Irish Shore from Galway to Kinsale.
 Their hands are scored where the life-lines cut or the dripping funnel-stays
 When they followed their leader at thirty knot between the Skaw and the Naze.
 Their mouths are filled with the magic words they learned at the collier’s hatch
 When they coaled in the foul December dawns and sailed in the forenoon-watch;
 Or measured the weight of a Pentland tide and the wind off Ronaldshay,
 Till the target mastered the breathless tug and the hawser carried away. 
4 
They know the price to be paid for a fault—for a gauge-clock wrongly read,
 Or a picket-boat to the gangway brought bows-on and fullahead,
 Or the drowsy second’s lack of thought that costs a dozen dead.
 They have touched a knowledge outreaching speech—as when the cutters were sent
 To harvest the dreadful mile of beach after the Vanguard went.
 They have learned great faith and little fear and a high heart in distress,
 And how to suffer each sodden year of heaped-up weariness.
 They have borne the bridle upon their lips and the yoke upon their neck,
 Since they went down to the sea in ships to save the world from wreck—
 Since the chests were slung down the College stair at Dartmouth in ’Fourteen,
 And now they are quit of the sea-affair as though no war had been.
 Far have they steamed and much have they known, and most would they fain forget;
 But now they are come to their joyous own with all the world in their debt. 
5 
Soft—blow soft on them, little East Wind! Be smooth for them, mighty stream!
 Though the cams they use are not of your kind, and they bump, for choice, by steam.
 Lightly dance with them, Newnham maid—but none too lightly believe.
 They are hot from the fifty-month blockade, and they carry their hearts on their sleeve.
 Tenderly, Proctor, let them down, if they do not walk as they should:
 For, by God, if they owe you half a crown, you owe ’em your four years’ food! 
6 
Hallowed River, most gracious Trees, Chapel beyond compare,
 Here be gentlemen sick of the seas—take them into your care.
 Far have they come, much have they braved. Give them their hour of play,
 While the hidden things their hands have saved work for them day by day:
 Till the grateful Past their youth redeemed return them their youth once more,
 And the Soul of the Child at last lets fall the unjust load that it bore!

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