, stretch their toes
_They_ can still grin at me, for each of 'em knows
That I'm as tired as they are....
Can they guess
The secret burden that is always mine?--
Pride in their courage; pity for their distress;
And burning bitterness
That I must take them to the accursed Line.

IV

I cannot hear their voices, but I see
Dim candles in the barn: they gulp their tea,
And soon they'll sleep like logs. Ten miles away
The battle winks and thuds in blundering strife.
And I must lead them nearer, day by day,
To the foul beast of war that bludgeons life.

AT CARNOY

Down in the hollow there's the whole Brigade
Camped in four groups: through twilight falling slow
I hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played,
And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low.
Crouched among thistle-tufts I've watched the glow
Of a blurred orange sunset flare and fade;
And I'm content. To-morrow we must go
To take some cursed Wood.... O world God made!

_July 3rd, 1916._

BATTALION RELIEF

"_Fall in! Now, get a move on!_" (Curse the rain.)
We splash away along the straggling village,
Out to the flat rich country green with June....
And sunset flares across wet crops and tillage,
Blazing with splendour-patches. Harvest soon
Up in the Line. "_Perhaps the War'll be done
By Christmas-time. Keep smiling then, old son!_"

Here's the Canal: it's dusk; we cross the bridge.
"_Lead on there by platoons._" The Line's a-glare
With shell-fire through the poplars; distant rattle
Of rifles and machine-guns. "_Fritz is there!
Christ, ain't it lively, Sergeant? Is't a battle?_"
More rain: the lightning blinks, and thunder rumbles.
"There's overhead artillery," some chap grumbles.

"_What's all this mob, by the cross-road?_" (The guides)....
"_Lead on with Number One_" (And off they go.)

"_Three-minute intervals._" ... Poor blundering files,
Sweating and blindly burdened; who's to know
If death will catch them in those two dark miles?
(More rain.) "_Lead on, Headquarters._"
(That's the lot.)
"_Who's that? O, Sergeant-major; don't get shot!
And tell me, have we won this war or not?_"

THE DUG-OUT

Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,
And one arm bent across your sullen cold
Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,
Deep-shadow'd from the candle's guttering gold;
And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;
Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head