A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Ypres Tower, Rye
YPRES TOWER, RYE
TOWER of Ypres that watchest, gravely smiling,
Green marsh-meadows stretching far away,
With long thoughts of famous deeds beguiling
March unceasing of the ages grey,
Once beneath thee
Swayed the seaweed, churned and foamed the sea.
Fleet of Frenchman, fleet of Spaniard thundered,
Victor, vanquished, 'neath your little hill,
Gaily fearless if they fled or plundered,
You, who faced our foemen, face them still—
Now the reeds sigh,
Young lambs frolic where tall ships sailed by.
Tower of Ypres, a little slept your glory,
Lips again are busy with your name,
Ypres again is famous in our story,
Ypres of Flanders, wrapt in blood and flame—
Here the spring song,
There black ruin, hate and death and wrong.
Dear grey Sussex town, your childlike beauty,
Passing price and more desired than gold,
Speaks to English souls of love, and duty
Faithful in the little wars of old—
In our hearts still
Live your dreaming fens, your bastioned hill.
April, 1917.