The War Poems of Siegfried Sassoon Part 5

Do they matter?--those dreams from the pit?...

You can drink and forget and be glad, And people won't say that you're mad; For they'll know that you've fought for your country, And no one will worry a bit.

SURVIVORS

No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk.

Of course they're "longing to go out again,"-- These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk, They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,-- Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride....

Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.

CRAIGLOCKHART, _Oct. 1917._

JOY-BELLS

Ring your sweet bells; but let them be farewells To the green-vista'd gladness of the past That changed us into soldiers; swing your bells To a joyful chime; but let it be the last.

What means this metal in windy belfries hung When guns are all our need? Dissolve these bells Whose tones are tuned for peace: with martial tongue Let them cry doom and storm the sun with sh.e.l.ls.

Bells are like fierce-browed prelates who proclaim That "if our Lord returned He'd fight for us."

So let our bells and bishops do the same, Shoulder to shoulder with the motor-bus.

ARMS AND THE MAN

Young Croesus went to pay his call On Colonel Sawbones, Caxton Hall: And, though his wound was healed and mended, He hoped he'd get his leave extended.

The waiting-room was dark and bare.

He eyed a neat-framed notice there Above the fireplace hung to show Disabled heroes where to go For arms and legs; with scale of price, And words of dignified advice How officers could get them free.

Elbow or shoulder, hip or knee,-- Two arms, two legs, though all were lost, They'd be restored him free of cost.

Then a Girl-Guide looked in to say, "Will Captain Croesus come this way?"

WHEN I'M AMONG A BLAZE OF LIGHTS ...

When I'm among a blaze of lights, With tawdry music and cigars And women dawdling through delights, And officers at c.o.c.ktail bars,-- Sometimes I think of garden nights And elm trees nodding at the stars.

I dream of a small firelit room With yellow candles burning straight, And glowing pictures in the gloom, And kindly books that hold me late.

Of things like these I love to think When I can never be alone: Then some one says, "Another drink?"-- And turns my living heart to stone.

THE KISS

To these I turn, in these I trust; Brother Lead and Sister Steel.

To his blind power I make appeal; I guard her beauty clean from rust.

He spins and burns and loves the air, And splits a skull to win my praise; But up the n.o.bly marching days She glitters naked, cold and fair.

Sweet Sister, grant your soldier this; That in good fury he may feel The body where he sets his heel Quail from your downward darting kiss.

THE TOMBSTONE-MAKER

He primmed his loose red mouth, and leaned his head Against a sorrowing angel's breast, and said: "You'd think so much bereavement would have made Unusual big demands upon my trade.

The War comes cruel hard on some poor folk-- Unless the fighting stops I'll soon be broke."

He eyed the Cemetery across the road-- "There's scores of bodies out abroad, this while, That should be here by rights; they little know'd How they'd get buried in such wretched style."

I told him, with a sympathetic grin, That Germans boil dead soldiers down for fat; And he was horrified. "What shameful sin!

O sir, that Christian men should come to that!"

THE ONE-LEGGED MAN

Propped on a stick he viewed the August weald; Squat orchard trees and oasts with painted cowls; A homely, tangled hedge, a corn-stooked field, With sound of barking dogs and farmyard fowls.

And he'd come home again to find it more Desirable than ever it was before.

How right it seemed that he should reach the span Of comfortable years allowed to man!

Splendid to eat and sleep and choose a wife, Safe with his wound, a citizen of life.

He hobbled blithely through the garden gate, And thought; "Thank G.o.d they had to amputate!"

RETURN OF THE HEROES

_A lady watches from the crowd, Enthusiastic, flushed, and proud._

"Oh! there's Sir Henry Dudster! Such a splendid leader!

How pleased he looks! What rows of ribbons on his tunic!

Such dignity.... Saluting.... (_Wave your flag ... now, Freda!_)...

Yes, dear, I saw a Prussian General once,--at Munich.

"Here's the next carriage!... Jack was once in Leggit's Corps; That's him!... I think the stout one is Sir G.o.dfrey Stoomer.

They _must_ feel sad to know they can't win any more Great victories!... Aren't they glorious men?... so full of humour!"

III

TWELVE MONTHS AFTER

Hullo! here's my platoon, the lot I had last year.

"The War'll be over soon."

"What 'opes?"

"No b.l.o.o.d.y fear!"

Then, "Number Seven, 'shun! All present and correct."