Soldier Poets
Our bayonets glinting in the sun,
Our faces fierce and white,
With sobbing breath and staring eye,
Yet bright with battle-light.
Then shouted Sergeant-Major Jones—
"On, lads, and follow me!"
We gave a hoarse and broken cheer
And swept to VICTORY.
Right through that belch of roaring death,
Amidst the fiery drench,
Hacked through their wire-entanglement,
And leaped and took the trench.
The Guerdon
THE dews that descend with the dawning;
The stars that are smitten by light,
At Phoebus' feet fainting and fawning;
The flowers that unfold in delight;
The lark who a lyric is trilling
O'er woodland and hollow and hill;
The streams who their fountains are filling,
No peace can instil.
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