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Route Marchin’

1 
We're marchin’ on relief over Injia’s sunny plains,
A little front o’ Christmas-time an’ just be’ind the Rains;
Ho! get away you bullock-man, you’ve ’eard the bugle blowed,
There’s a regiment a-comin’ down the Grand Trunk Road;
      With its best foot first
      And the road a-sliding past,
      An’ every bloomin’ campin’-ground exactly like the last;
      While the Big Drum says,
      With ’is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”—
      “Kiko kissywarsti don’t you hamsher argy jow?” (1)
2
Oh, there’s them Injian temples to admire when you see,
There’s the peacock round the corner an’ the monkey up the tree,
An’ there’s that rummy silver grass a-wavin’ in the wind,
An’ the old Grand Trunk a-trailin’ like a rifle-sling be’ind.
      While it’s best foot first, . . .
3
At half-past five’s Revelly, an’ our tents they down must come,
Like a lot of button mushrooms when you pick ’em up at ’ome.
But it’s over in a minute, an’ at six the column starts,
While the women and the kiddies sit an’ shiver in the carts.
      An’ it’s best foot first, . . .
4
Oh, then it’s open order, an’ we lights our pipes an’ sings,
An’ we talks about our rations an’ a lot of other things,
An’ we thinks o’ friends in England, an’ we wonders what they’re at,
An’ ’ow they would admire for to hear us sling the bat (2)
      An’ it’s best foot first, . . .
5
It’s none so bad o’ Sunday, when you’re lyin’ at your ease,
To watch the kites a-wheelin’ round them feather-’eaded trees,
For although there ain’t no women, yet there ain’t no barrick-yards,
So the orficers goes shootin’ an’ the men they plays at cards.
      Till it’s best foot first, . . .
6
So ’ark an’ ’eed, you rookies, which is always grumblin’ sore,
There’s worser things than marchin’ from Umballa to Cawnpore;
An’ if your ’eels are blistered an’ they feels to ’urt like ’ell,
You drop some tallow in your socks an’ that will make ’em well.
      For it’s best foot first, . . .
7
We’re marchin’ on relief over Injia’s coral strand,
Eight ’undred fightin’ Englishmen, the Colonel, and the Band;
Ho! get away you bullock-man, you’ve ’eard the bugle blowed,
There’s a regiment a-comin’ down the Grand Trunk Road;
      With its best foot first
      And the road a-sliding past,
      An’ every bloomin’ campin’-ground exactly like the last;
      While the Big Drum says,
      With ’is “rowdy-dowdy-dow!”—
      “Kiko kissywarsti don’t you hamsher argy jow?”

(1) Why don’t you get on?
(2) Language. Thomas’s first and firmest conviction
is that he is a profound Orientalist and a fluent speaker
of Hindustani. As a matter of fact, he depends
largely on the sign-language.

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The Wop of Asia

The Wop of Asia—that lordly Beast—
Writes from his lair in the burning East
To the Wop of Europe—"Peace and Rest,
"From Allah who giveth them be in your Breast.
"Behold it was writ in our Brows at Birth
"We should sing in the East of the Sons of Earth:
(And how shall a man, be He ne'er so wise
Escape that sentence between his eyes?)
"Wherefore we sang, and the Songs we send
"May serve to amuse you in far North End.

"Now the gnat sings gaily at eventide
"And the Bull frog sings by the waterside
"And the wind of the desert across the sands
"Singeth what no man understands
"But whether we sing as these or worse
"Behold it is written here in our verse."

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A Song in Storm

Be well assured that on our side
The abiding oceans fight,
Though headlong wind and heaping tide
Make us their sport to-night.
By force of weather, not of war,
In jeopardy we steer.
Then welcome Fate’s discourtesy
Whereby it shall appear
How in all time of our distress,
And our deliverance too,
The game is more than the player of the game,
And the ship is more than the crew!

Out of the mist into the mirk
The glimmering combers roll.
Almost these mindless waters work
As though they had a soul —
Almost as though they leagued to whelm
Our flag beneath their green:
Then welcome Fate’s discourtesy
Whereby it shall be seen, etc.

Be well assured, though wave and wind
Have mightier blows in store,
That we who keep the watch assigned
Must stand to it the more;
And as our streaming bows rebuke
Each billow’s baulked career,
Sing, welcome Fate’s discourtesy
Whereby it is made clear, etc.

No matter though our decks be swept
And mast and timber crack —
We can make good all loss except
The loss of turning back.
So, ‘twixt these Devils and our deep
Let courteous trumpets sound,
To welcome Fate’s discourtesy
Whereby it will be found, etc.

Be well assured, though in our power
Is nothing left to give
But chance and place to meet the hour,
And leave to strive to live.
Till these dissolve our Order holds,
Our Service binds us here.
Then welcome Fate’s discourtesy
Whereby it is made clear
How in all time of our distress,
As in our triumph too,
The game is more than the player of the game
And the ship is more than the crew!

The Young Queen

1 
Her hand was still on her sword-hilt, the spur was still on her heel,
She had not cast her harness of grey, war-dinted steel;
High on her red-splashed charger, beautiful, bold, and browned,
Bright-eyed out of the battle, the Young Queen rode to be crowned.
2
She came to the Old Queen’s presence, in the Hall of Our Thousand Years—
In the Hall of the Five Free Nations that are peers among their peers:
Royal she gave the greeting, loyal she bowed the head,
Crying—“Crown me, my Mother!” And the Old Queen rose and said:—
3
“How can I crown thee further? I know whose standard flies
Where the clean surge takes the Leeuwin or the coral barriers rise.
Blood of our foes on thy bridle, and speech of our friends in thy mouth—
How can I crown thee further, O Queen of the Sovereign South?
4
“Let the Five Free Nations witness!” But the Young Queen answered swift:—
“It shall be crown of Our crowning to hold Our crown for a gift.
In the days when Our folk were feeble thy sword made sure Our lands:
Wherefore We come in power to take Our crown at thy hands.”
5
And the Old Queen raised and kissed her, and the jealous circlet prest,
Roped with the pearls of the Northland and red with the gold of the West,
Lit with her land’s own opals, levin-hearted, alive,
And the Five-starred Cross above them, for sign of the Nations Five.
6
So it was done in the Presence—in the Hall of Our Thousand Years,
In the face of the Five Free Nations that have no peer but their peers;
And the Young Queen out of the Southland kneeled down at the Old Queen’s knee,
And asked for a mother’s blessing on the excellent years to be.
7
And the Old Queen stooped in the stillness where the jewelled head drooped low:—
“Daughter no more but Sister, and doubly Daughter so—
Mother of many princes—and child of the child I bore,
What good thing shall I wish thee that I have not wished before?
8
“Shall I give thee delight in dominion—mere pride of thy setting forth?
Nay, we be women together—we know what that lust is worth.
Peace in thy utmost borders, and strength on a road untrod?
These are dealt or diminished at the secret will of God.
9
“I have swayed troublous councils, I am wise in terrible things;
Father and son and grandson, I have known the hearts of the Kings.
Shall I give thee my sleepless wisdom, or the gift all wisdom above?
Ay, we be women together—I give thee thy people’s love:
10
“Tempered, august, abiding, reluctant of prayers or vows,
Eager in face of peril as thine for thy mother’s house.
God requite thee, my Sister, through the excellent years to be,
And make thy people to love thee as thou hast loved me!”

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Epitaphs of the War

EQUALITY OF SACRIFICE

A. “I was a Have.” B. “I was a ‘have-not.’”
(Together.) “What hast thou given which I gave not?” 


A SERVANT 

We were together since the War began.
He was my servant—and the better man. 


A SON 

My son was killed while laughing at some jest. I would I knew
What it was, and it might serve me in a time when jests are few. 


AN ONLY SON 

I have slain none except my Mother.
She (Blessing her slayer) died of grief for me. 


EX-CLERK 

Pity not! The Army gave
Freedom to a timid slave:
In which Freedom did he find
Strength of body, will, and mind:
By which strength he came to prove
Mirth, Companionship, and Love:
For which Love to Death he went:
In which Death he lies content. 


THE WONDER 

Body and Spirit I surrendered whole
To harsh Instructors—and received a soul . . .
If mortal man could change me through and through
From all I was—what may The God not do? 


HINDU SEPOY IN FRANCE 

This man in his own country prayed we know not to what Powers.
We pray Them to reward him for his bravery in ours. 


THE COWARD 

I could not look on Death, which being known,
Men led me to him, blindfold and alone. 


SHOCK 

My name, my speech, my self I had forgot.
My wife and children came—I knew them not.
I died. My Mother followed. At her call
And on her bosom I remembered all. 


A GRAVE NEAR CAIRO 

Gods of the Nile, should this stout fellow here
Get out—get out! He knows not shame nor fear. 


PELICANS IN THE WILDERNESS 

(A Grave Near Halfa)
The blown sand heaps on me, that none may learn
Where I am laid for whom my children grieve . . . 
O wings that beat at dawning, ye return
Out of the desert to your young at eve! 


THE FAVOUR 

Death favoured me from the first, well knowing I could not endure
To wait on him day by day. He quitted my betters and came
Whistling over the fields, and, when he had made all sure,
“Thy line is at end,” he said, “but at least I have saved its name.” 


THE BEGINNER 

On the first hour of my first day
In the front trench I fell.
(Children in boxes at a play
Stand up to watch it well.) 


R.A.F. (AGED EIGHTEEN) 

Laughing through clouds, his milk-teeth still unshed,
Cities and men he smote from overhead.
His deaths delivered, he returned to play
Childlike, with childish things now put away. 


THE REFINED MAN 

I was of delicate mind. I stepped aside for my needs,
Disdaining the common office. I was seen from afar and killed . . .
How is this matter for mirth? Let each man be judged by his deeds.
I have paid my price to live with myself on the terms that I willed. 


NATIVE WATER-CARRIER (M.E.F.) 

Prometheus brought down fire to men.
This brought up water.
The Gods are jealous—now, as then,
Giving no quarter. 


BOMBED IN LONDON 

On land and sea I strove with anxious care
To escape conscription. It was in the air! 


THE SLEEPY SENTINEL 

Faithless the watch that I kept: now I have none to keep.
I was slain because I slept: now I am slain I sleep.
Let no man reproach me again; whatever watch is unkept—
I sleep because I am slain. They slew me because I slept. 


BATTERIES OUT OF AMMUNITION 

If any mourn us in the workshop, say
We died because the shift kept holiday. 


COMMON FORM 

If any question why we died,
Tell them, because our fathers lied. 


A DEAD STATESMAN 

I could not dig: I dared not rob:
Therefore I lied to please the mob.
Now all my lies are proved untrue
And I must face the men I slew.
What tale shall serve me here among
Mine angry and defrauded young? 


THE REBEL 

If I had clamoured at Thy Gate
For gift of Life on Earth,
And, thrusting through the souls that wait,
Flung headlong into birth—
Even then, even then, for gin and snare
About my pathway spread,
Lord, I had mocked Thy thoughtful care
Before I joined the Dead!
But now? . . . I was beneath Thy Hand
Ere yet the Planets came.
And now—though Planets pass, I stand
The witness to Thy shame. 


THE OBEDIENT 

Daily, though no ears attended,
Did my prayers arise.
Daily, though no fire descended
Did I sacrifice.
Though my darkness did not lift,
Though I faced no lighter odds,
Though the Gods bestowed no gift,
None the less,
None the less, I served the Gods! 


A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM 

He from the wind-bitten north with ship and companions descended.
Searching for eggs of death spawned by invisible hulls.
Many he found and drew forth. Of a sudden the fishery ended
In flame and a clamorous breath not new to the eye-pecking gulls. 


DESTROYERS IN COLLISION 

For Fog and Fate no charm is found
To lighten or amend.
I, hurrying to my bride, was drowned—
Cut down by my best friend. 


CONVOY ESCORT 

I was a shepherd to fools
Causelessly bold or afraid.
They would not abide by my rules.
Yet they escaped. For I stayed. 


UNKNOWN FEMALE CORPSE 

Headless, lacking foot and hand,
Horrible I come to land.
I beseech all women’s sons
Know I was a mother once. 


RAPED AND REVENGED 

One used and butchered me: another spied
Me broken—for which thing an hundred died.
So it was learned among the heathen hosts
How much a freeborn woman’s favour costs. 


SALONIKAN GRAVE 

I have watched a thousand days
Push out and crawl into night
Slowly as tortoises.
Now I, too, follow these.
It is fever, and not the fight—
Time, not battle—that slays. 


THE BRIDEGROOM 

Call me not false, beloved,
If, from thy scarce-known breast
So little time removed,
In other arms I rest. 

For this more ancient bride
Whom coldly I embrace
Was constant at my side
Before I saw thy face. 

Our marriage, often set—
By miracle delayed—
At last is consummate,
And cannot be unmade. 

Live, then, whom Life shall cure.
Almost, of Memory,
And leave us to endure
Its immortality. 


V. A. D. (MEDITERRANEAN) 

Ah, would swift ships had never been, for then we ne’er had found,
These harsh Ægean rocks between, this little virgin drowned,
Whom neither spouse nor child shall mourn, but men she nursed through pain
And—certain keels for whose return the heathen look in vain. 


ACTORS 

On a Memorial Tablet in Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-on-Avon
We counterfeited once for your disport
Men’s joy and sorrow: but our day has passed.
We pray you pardon all where we fell short
Seeing we were your servants to this last. 


JOURNALISTS 

(On a Panel in the Hall of the Institute of Journalists)
We have served our day.