Before my Spring

Before my Spring I garnered Autumn's gain, 
Out of her time my field was white with grain, 
  The year gave up her secrets, to my woe.
Forced and deflowered each sick season lay,
In mystery of increase and decay;
I saw the sunset ere men see the day,
  Who am too wise in all I should not know. 

                                                            Bitter Waters

Choose another poem

Because I sought it far from men

Because I sought it far from men,
In deserts and alone,
I found it burning overhead, 
The jewel of a Throne.

Because I sought - I sought it so 
And spent my days to find—
It blazed one moment ere it left 
The blacker night behind.

Choose another poem

Beat off ?

Beat off in our last fight were we? 
The greater need to seek the sea. 
For Fortune changeth as the moon 
To caravel and picaroon.
Then Eastward Ho! or Westward Ho!
Whichever wind may meetest blow. 
Our quarry sails on either sea,
Fat prey for such bold lads as we, 
And every sun-dried buccaneer
Must hand and reef and watch and steer,
And bear great wrath of sea and sky 
Before the plate-ships wallow by.
Now, as our tall bows take the foam, 
Let no man turn his heart to home, 
Save to desire plunder more
And larger warehouse for his store, 
When treasure won from Santos Bay 
Shall make our sea-washed village gay.

Choose another poem

Back to the Army again

1 
I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
A-layin' on the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat;
My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots,
An' I'm learnin' the damned old goose-step along o' the new recruits! 
2 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Don't look so 'ard, for I 'aven't no card,
I'm back to the Army again!
3 
I done my six years' service. 'Er Majesty sez: "Good day - 
You'll please to come when you're rung for, an' 'ere's your 'ole back-pay:
An' fourpence a day for baccy - an' bloomin' gen'rous, too;
An' now you can make your fortune - the same as your orf'cers do." 
4 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Ow did I learn to do right-about-turn? 
I'm back to the Army again!
5 
A man o' four-an'-twenty that 'asn't learned of a trade - 
Beside "Reserve" agin' him - 'e'd better be never made.
I tried my luck for a quarter, an' that was enough for me,
An' I thought of 'Er Majesty's barricks, an' I thought I'd go an' see. 
6 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Tisn't my fault if I dress when I 'alt - 
I'm back to the Army again! 
7 
The sergeant arst no questions, but 'e winked the other eye,
'E sez to me, " 'Shun!" an' I shunted, the same as in days gone by;
For 'e saw the set o' my shoulders, an' I couldn't 'elp 'oldin' straight
When me an' the other rookies come under the barrik-gate. 
8 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Oo would ha' thought I could carry an' port?
I'm back to the Army again!  
9 
I took my bath, an' I wallered - for, Gawd, I needed it so!
I smelt the smell o' the barricks, I 'eard the bugles go.
I 'eard the feet on the grave! - the feet o' the men what drill - 
An' I sez to my flutterin' 'eart-strings, I sez to 'em, "Peace, be still!"  
10 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
'Oo said I knew when the troopship was due?
I'm back to the Army again! 
11 
I carried my slops to the tailor; I sez to 'im, "None o' your lip!
You tight 'em over the shoulders, an' loose 'em over the 'ip,
For the set o' the tunic's 'orrid." An' 'e sez to me, "Strike me dead,
But I thought you was used to the business!" an' so 'e done what I said. 
12 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again. 
Rather too free with my fancies? Wot - me? 
I'm back to the Army again! 
13 
Next week I'll 'ave 'em fitted; I'll buy me a swagger-cane;
They'll let me free o' the barricks to walk on the Hoe again,
In the name o' William Parsons, that used to be Edward Clay,
An' - any pore beggar that wants it can draw my fourpence a day!  
14 
Back to the Army again, sergeant,
Back to the Army again.
Out o' the cold an' the rain, sergeant,
Out o' the cold an' the rain.
'Oo's there?  
15 
A man that's too good to be lost you,
A man that is 'andled an' made - 
A man that will pay what 'e cost you 
In learnin' the others their trade - parade! 
You're droppin' the pick o' the Army 
Because you don't 'elp 'em remain,
But drives 'em to cheat to get out o' the street 
An' back to the Army again!

Choose another poem

Explore the site from the Home page

Au Revoir

What Song shall we sing to the Swallow, 
  In Spring?—
To the restless, roving Swallow 
  That heralds an English Spring?
Surely, sad Autumn must follow 
  The Pageant of Spring;
And, what Time the Winds blow hollow,
  Where is the Swallow?

What song to the Flowers of May,
  In Summer?—
To the Buds and the Blossoms of May
  That jewel an English Summer?
Surely, These pass away 
  With the waning Summer,
And, what Time the Woods decay,
  Where are the Flowers of May?

What Song to an English Maid
  'Neath our Sun?—
To a blue-eyed English Maid
  Who braves for a Season our Sun? 
Surely, the Lilacs fade
  Ere the Season is done;
And, what Time June burneth the Blade, 
  Where is the Maid?

There is one Message to All, 
  One  Invitation,—
When Birds flit or Flowers fall,
  Or the Maid quits the Station:—
"Come back with the cooler Spring Wind, 
  "For the Land lieth lonely!
"Come back, for Ye leave Us behind
  "Sweet Memories only!"

Choose another poem

At the hole where he went in

At the hole where he went in 
Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. 
Hear what little Red-Eye saith:
"Nag, come up and dance with death!"

Eye to eye and head to head,
(Keep the measure, Nag)
This shall end when one is dead;
(At thy pleasure, Nag)

Tum for tum and twist for twist­
(Run and hide thee, Nag)
Hah! The hooded Death has missed!
(Woe betide thee, Nag!) 
 

Choose another poem

A weed, one weed

A weed, one weed and only one had I,
   One weed the weediest one of all my store 
One weed, with but one match to light it by
  A weed was mine that now is mine no more.

A weed, a weedy weed was mine to smoke
  Oh ay! ay oh! the match that burns and dies
My true love garmented in russet cloak
  Ay oh! oh ay! the flickering flame that flies.

And one went out and one refused to burn
  And one expired, and 't other would not draw.
And both have failed me—Whither shall I turn
  For withered weeds that shall be mine no more.

Choose another poem

A stone’s throw out

A stone's throw out on either hand 
From that well-ordered road we tread, 
And all the world is wild and strange;
Churel and ghoul and Djinn and sprite 
Shall bear us company to-night,
For we have reached the Oldest Land 
Wherein the Powers of Darkness range.

                                                   From the Dusk to the Dawn

Choose another poem

Wilful-Missing

1 
There is a world outside the one you know,
  To which for curiousness ’Ell can’t compare—
It is the place where “wilful-missings” go,
  As we can testify, for we are there. 
2 
You may ’ave read a bullet laid us low,
  That we was gathered in “with reverent care”
And buried proper. But it was not so,
  As we can testify, for we are there! 
3 
They can’t be certain—faces alter so
  After the old aasvogel’s ’ad ’is share.
The uniform’s the mark by which they go—
  And—ain’t it odd?—the one we best can spare. 
4 
We might ’ave seen our chance to cut the show—
  Name, number, record, an’ begin elsewhere
Leavin’ some not too late-lamented foe
  One funeral—private—British—for ’is share. 
5 
We may ’ave took it yonder in the Low
  Bush-veldt that sends men stragglin’ unaware
Among the Kaffirs, till their columns go,
  An’ they are left past call or count or care. 
6 
We might ’ave been your lovers long ago,
  ’Usbands or children—comfort or despair.
Our death (an’ burial) settles all we owe,
   An’ why we done it is our own affair. 
7 
Marry again, and we will not say no,
  Nor come to barstardise the kids you bear.
Wait on in ’ope—you’ve all your life below
  Before you’ll ever ’ear us on the stair. 
8 
There is no need to give our reasons, though
  Gawd knows we all ’ad reasons which were fair;
But other people might not judge ’em so—
  And now it doesn’t matter what they were. 
9 
What man can weigh or size another’s woe?
  There are some things too bitter ’ard to bear.
Suffice it we ’ave finished—Domino!
  As we can testify, for we are there,
In the side-world where “wilful-missings” go.

Choose another poem

When ‘Omer smote
‘is bloomin’ lyre

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre,
   He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea;
An' what he thought 'e might require,
   'E went an' took - the same as me! 

The market-girls an' fishermen,
   The shepherds an' the sailors, too,
They 'eard old songs turn up again,
   But kep' it quiet - same as you! 

They knew 'e stole; 'e knew they knowed.
   They didn't tell, nor make a fuss,
But winked at 'Omer down the road,
   An' 'e winked back - the same as us!

Choose another poem