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THE ASSAULT
61
Now comes the thrust,
My part . . . dizziness . . . will . . . but trust
These men. The great guns rise.
Their fury seems to burst the earth and skies!
They—lift!
Gather, heart, all thoughts that drift;
Be steel, soul.
Compress thyself
Into a round, bright whole.
I cannot speak.
Time! Time!
I hear my whistle shriek
Between teeth set,
I fling an arm up,
Scramble up the grime
Over the parapet!
I'm up. Go on.
Something meets us.
Head down into the storm that greets us.
A wail!
Lights. Blurr.
Gone.
On, on. Lead. Lead. Hail.
Spatter. Whirr. Whirr.
