The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Gloucestershire Lad at Home and Abroad This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: A Gloucestershire Lad at Home and Abroad Author: F. W. Harvey Release date: August 22, 2021 [eBook #66108] Language: English Credits: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by University of California libraries) *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GLOUCESTERSHIRE LAD AT HOME AND ABROAD *** A Gloucestershire Lad [Illustration] A Gloucestershire Lad at Home and Abroad by F. W. Harvey [Illustration] _Fourth Impression_ London Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd. 1917 _First Impression, September 1916._ _Second Impression, October 1916._ _Third Impression, January 1917._ _Fourth Impression, March 1917._ _All rights reserved._ TO ALL COMRADES OF MINE WHO LIE DEAD IN FOREIGN FIELDS FOR LOVE OF ENGLAND, OR WHO LIVE TO PROSECUTE THE WAR FOR ANOTHER ENGLAND PREFACE Most of these poems were written at the Front, and appeared in the _Fifth Gloucester Gazette_--the first paper ever published from the trenches. The author was then a Lance-Corporal in the 5th Battalion of the Gloucestershire Regiment, and as such gained the Distinguished Conduct Medal in August, 1915. The award appears as follows in the _London Gazette_-- F. W. HARVEY.--“For conspicuous gallantry on the night of the 3rd-4th August, 1915, near Hebuterne, when, with a patrol, he and another Non-Commissioned Officer went out to reconnoitre in the direction of a suspected listening post. In advancing they encountered the hostile post evidently covering a working party in the rear. Corporal Knight at once shot one of the enemy, and, with Lance-Corporal Harvey, rushed the post, shooting two others, and assistance arriving the enemy fled. Lance-Corporal Harvey pursued, felling one of the retreating Germans with a bludgeon. He seized him, but finding his revolver empty and the enemy having opened fire, he was called back by Corporal Knight, and the prisoner escaped. Three Germans were killed and their rifles and a Mauser pistol were brought in. The patrol had no loss.” The poems are written by a soldier and reflect a soldier’s outlook. Mud, blood and khaki are rather conspicuously absent. They are, in fact, the last things a soldier wishes to think or talk about. What he does think of is his home. Bishop Frodsham, preaching in Gloucester Cathedral, after visiting the Troops in France, quoted the following poem in a passage which admirably expresses the feelings of most of our fighting men. “To suppose that these men enjoy the fighting would be sheer nonsense. The soldier does not want to go on killing and maiming Germans or Turks. He wants to get the dreadful war finished, so that he can get back to England again. But he wants the matter fought to a finish because he has seen in the villages and towns of France what German domination means. It has made him think furiously, as the French say. Many regiments and ships’ companies while away the impracticable hours by publishing little newspapers. “The _Fifth Gloucester Gazette_ is one of these journals. We are proud of the courage and the gaiety these little papers show. We laugh at their quips and jokes: then suddenly we find that the corners of our mouths are quivering and the tears are gathering in our eyes. We see that the boys are thinking about England below their gaiety. One young poet lifts the veil in this exquisite little rondeau-- “‘If we return, will England be Just England still to you and me-- The place where we must earn our bread? We who have walked among the dead, And watched the smile of agony, And seen the price of liberty, Which we have taken carelessly From other hands. Nay, we shall dread: If we return, Dread lest we hold blood-guiltily The thing that men have died to free. Our English fields shall blossom red In all the blood that has been shed, By men whose guardians are we, If we return.’” That is perhaps the keynote of a book which the author has dedicated to all dead and living comrades who have loved England. J. H. COLLETT, C.M.G., COLONEL Commanding the Fifth Battalion of the Gloucestershire Regiment in France. CONTENTS PAGE PREFACE BY COLONEL J. H. COLLETT, C.M.G. vii _In Flanders_ xv A SONG OF GLOUCESTERSHIRE 1 BALLADE OF THE RICH HEART 3 SONG OF MINSTERWORTH PERRY 5 A GLOUCESTERSHIRE WISH AT EASTERTIDE 6 SONG OF THE ROAD 7 PIPER’S WOOD 8 BALLADE OF RIVER SAILING 9 SONG OF MINSTERWORTH 11 CRICKET: THE CATCH 13 WONDERS 14 TRIOLET 15 TRIOLET 16 WHAT GOD SAID 17 TO HIS MAID 18 BALLADE OF DAMNABLE THINGS 19 SONG OF HEALTH 21 GRATITUDE 22 THE SOLDIER SPEAKS 23 A PRESENT FROM FLANDERS 24 IF WE RETURN 25 A PEOPLE RENEWED 26 THE AWAKENING 27 THE RETURN 28 LAND OF HEART’S DELIGHT 29 GONNEHEM 30 THE REST FARM 31 BALLADE OF BEELZEBUB, GOD OF FLIES 32 TO THE KAISER 34 ROBERT HERRICK SOLILOQUIZES ON THE C.O. 36 THE THREE PADRES 37 WALT WHITMAN DESCRIBES MAJOR W. 38 SERGEANT FINCH 39 C COMPANY COOK 40 EPITAPH 41 SONNET 42 THE FIRST SPRING DAY 43 DEFIANCE 45 THE ORCHARDS, THE SEA, AND THE GUNS 46 DYING IN SPRING 47 VICTORY 48 DEATH THE REVEALER 49 F. W. H. 50 POETRY 51 PROSE POEMS-- 1. HEAVEN 52 2. THE MOTH 53 3. THE ARTIST 54 4. THE WINDOW GLASS 55 5. IN THE FIELD OF TIME 56 6. BLUE GRASS 57 7. THE POET 58 8. SORROW 59 9. THE MIRACLE 60 10. FAITH 61 11. TIME--THE HORSE 62 12. THE REBUILDING OF REALITY 63 13. THE TOKEN 64 _IN FLANDERS_ _I’m homesick for my hills again-- My hills again! To see above the Severn plain Unscabbarded against the sky The blue high blade of Cotswold lie; The giant clouds go royally By jagged Malvern with a train Of shadows. Where the land is low Like a huge imprisoning O I hear a heart that’s sound and high, I hear the heart within me cry: “I’m homesick for my hills again-- My hills again! Cotswold or Malvern, sun or rain! My hills again!”_ A SONG OF GLOUCESTERSHIRE (_Dedicated to the Gloucestershire Society_) _North, South, East, and West: Think of whichever you love the best. Forest and vale and high blue hill: You may have whichever you will, And quaff one cup to the love o’ your soul Before we drink to the lovely whole._ Here are high hills with towns all stone, (Did you come from the Cotswolds then?) And an architecture all their own, And a breed of sturdy men. But here’s a forest old and stern, (Say, do you know the Wye?) Where sunlight dapples green miles of fern, A river wandering by. Here’s peaceful meadow-land and kine, (Do you see a fair grey tower?) Where sweet together close entwine Grass, clover, and daisy flower. Here stretches the land toward the sea (Behold the castle bold!) Where men live out life merrily, And die merry and old. _North, South, East, and West: Think of whichever you love the best. Forest and vale and high blue hill: You shall have whichever you will, To quaff one cup to the love o’ your soul Before we drink to the lovely whole._ BALLADE OF THE RICH HEART What thief is he can rob this treasury, Which hath not gold but dreams within its gates? What power can enter in to take from me My treasure, while upon the threshold waits “Courage,” my watch-dog, keeping back the fates Which follow close until I do depart In safety from their little loves and hates? Singing of all I carry in my heart. Guarded of dreams against all evil chance, With young Adventure arm in arm I go To laugh at Luck and silly Circumstance. And, counting naught that comes to me my foe, I change, if ’tis my whim, the winter snow To blowing blossom: and by that same art I fashion as I will Life’s weal and woe: Singing of all I carry in my heart. Let me go lame and lousy like a tramp But feel the wind and know the moonlit sky! What matter if the falling dew be damp-- Still is it dew! And well contented I Among my dreams (in seeming poverty) Far from the cities and the noisy mart,-- With Life and Death--my dearest friends--to lie, Singing of all I carry in my heart. _Envoi._ Prince of this world, high monarch of all those Who deem Reality life’s better part, Herewith I tweak thy crooked royal nose-- Singing of all I carry in my heart. SONG OF MINSTERWORTH PERRY When Noe went sailing with his crew And waters covered over the earth, Trees that in Eden-orchard grew Got washed away to Minsterworth. Now every year they bloom again, (All of the trees spread healthy root) And after Summer’s shine and rain We gather up the blessed fruit; Whereof we get a heavenly drink (Two rather!) for to make us merry; Oh! Cider’s one, and I do think The name o’ t’other one is Perry! A GLOUCESTERSHIRE WISH AT EASTERTIDE Here’s luck, my lads, while Birdlip Hill is steep:-- --As long as Cotswold’s high or Severn’s deep. Our thoughts of you shall blossom and abide While blow the orchards about Severn side:-- --While a round bubble like the children blow, May Hill floats purple in the sunset glow. Our prayers go up to bless you where you lie, While Gloucester tower stands up against the sky To write old thoughts of loveliness, and trace Dead men’s long living will to give God praise:-- --Who of His mercy doth His Own Son give This blessed morn, that you, and all, may live! SONG OF THE ROAD Cheerily upon the road Tramp we all together, Bearing every one his load Through the changeful weather. To one Hope we all belong, To one Fate a debtor, Songs must cheer our steps along, Mirth the road make better. Wishes cannot make a horse, Only beggars would ride; We must meet the fairy force In each sombre wood-side. We must bravely tread the way, Gaily sing together, Till we reach the endless day, Heaven’s golden weather. PIPER’S WOOD In Minsterworth when March is in, And Spring begins to gild the days, Oh! then starts up a joyous din, For Piper’s Wood is full of praise, Because the birds deem winter gone And welcome the returning sun. Blackbird and thrush and robin dear Within that wood try over all The songs they mean to shout so clear Before green leaves grow red and fall; And harkening in its shadows you Must needs sing out of Summer too. BALLADE OF RIVER SAILING _The Dorothy_ was very small: a boat Scarce any bigger than the sort one rows With oars! We got her for a five-pound note At second-hand. Yet when the river flows Strong to the sea, and the wind lightly blows, Then see her dancing on the tide, and you’ll Swear she’s the prettiest little craft that goes Up-stream from Framilode to Bollopool. Bare-footed, push her from the bank afloat, (The soft warm mud comes squelching through your toes!) Scramble aboard: then find an antidote For every care a jaded spirit knows: While round the boat the broken water crows With laughter, casting pretty ridicule On human life and all its little woes, Up-stream from Framilode to Bollopool. How shall I tell you what the sunset wrote Upon the outspread waters--gold and rose: Or how the white sail of our little boat Looks on a summer sky? The hills enclose With blue solemnity: each white scar shows Clear on the quarried Cotteswolds high and cool. And high and cool a fevered spirit grows Up-stream from Framilode to Bollopool. _Envoi._ Prince, you have horses: motors, I suppose, As well! At finding pleasure you’re no fool. But have you got a little boat that blows Up-stream from Framilode to Bollopool? SONG OF MINSTERWORTH _Air_: “_The Vicar of Bray_” In olden, olden centuries On Gloucester’s holy ground, sir, The monks did pray and chant all day, And grow exceeding round, sir; And here’s the reason that they throve To praise their pleasant fortune, “We keep our beasts”--thus quoth the priests, “In Minsterworth--that’s Mortune!”[1] _So this is the chorus we will sing, And this is the spot we’ll drink to, While blossom blows and Severn flows, And Earth has mugs to clink to._ Oh! there in sleepy Summer sounds The drowsy drone of bees, sir, And there in Winter paints the sun His patterns ’neath the trees, sir; And there with merry song doth run A river full of fish, sir, That Thursday sees upon the flood And Friday on the dish, sir. _So this is the chorus we will sing And this is the spot we’ll drink to, While blossom blows and Severn flows, And Earth has mugs to clink to._ The jovial priests to dust are gone, We cannot hear their singing; But still their merry chorus-song From newer lips runs ringing. And we who drink the sunny air And see the blossoms drifting, Will sit and sing the self-same thing Until the roof we’re lifting. _So this is the chorus we will sing, And this is the spot we’ll drink to, While blossom blows and Severn flows, And Earth has mugs to clink to._ [1] The ancient name of the parish was Mortune--that is, the village in the mere; and the name was changed to Minsterworth early in the fourteenth century because it belonged to the Minster or Abbey of Gloucester, and was the Minster’s “Worth” or farm where the cattle were kept.--F. W. H. CRICKET: THE CATCH Whizzing, fierce, it came Down the summer air, Burning like a flame On my fingers bare, And it brought to me As swift--a memory. Happy days long dead Clear I saw once more. Childhood that is fled:-- Rossall on the shore, Where the sea sobs wild Like a homesick child. Oh, the blue bird’s fled! Never man can follow. Yet at times instead Comes this scarlet swallow, Bearing on its wings (Where it skims and dips, Gleaming through the slips) Sweet Time-strangled things. WONDERS What magic is in common grass To bring this miracle to pass? That within it one should find Salves to give him peace of mind? --It’s very queer that garden weed Should minister to my soul’s need. What fairy in the falling rain Takes the robin’s small refrain, And twists it to a tiny charm To keep a tempted heart from harm? --It puzzles me a wild bird’s song Should save my soul from doing wrong. TRIOLET If Beauty were a mortal thing That died like laughter, grief, and lust, The poet would not need to sing. If Beauty were a mortal thing It would not wound us with its sting. We should lie happy in the dust If Beauty were a mortal thing That died like laughter, grief, and lust. TRIOLET Winter has hardened all the ground, But flowers are on the window-pane; No others are there to be found:-- Winter has hardened all the ground. But here, while Earth is bare and bound, Bloom ghosts of those his frost has slain. Winter has hardened all the ground, But flowers are on the window-pane. WHAT GOD SAID “This be a lesson,” said Life, with a frown-- And knocked me down. “And serve him right!” cried the goodly men, While I--I picked myself up, and then Went on just as I used to do. But the good God smiled as He shook His head; “It’s a troublesome child,” said He, “but yet Not quite so altogether dead As those solemn old fools that laughed. Don’t fret!” At least, I think that’s what He said. TO HIS MAID Since above Time, upon Eternity The lovely essence of true loving’s set, Time shall not triumph over you and me, Nor--though we pay his debt-- Shall Death hold mastery. Your eyes are bright for ever. Your dark hair Holds an eternal shade. Like a bright sword Shall flame the vision of your strange sweet ways, Cleaving the years: and even your smallest word, Lying forgotten with the things that were, Shall glow and kindle, burning up the days. BALLADE OF DAMNABLE THINGS I do not like a horse to throw me off. I do not like the motor-bike to skid. I do not like a nasty hacking cough, Nor influenza. And I never did Enjoy the thought of frizzling on a grid, The while wee flaming devils dance and sing. But short of simple Hell without the lid, I think that jaundice is the damn’dest thing. Fleas, faintness, famine, stomach-ache, the feel Of flies upon your face, rats in your bed; Lice, dusty roads, a blister on your heel, The taste of salts, the scent of things long dead, Home-sickness, chilblains, grief uncomforted, A hollow tooth with cold, a hornet sting:-- These are unpleasant, yet when all is said I think that jaundice is the damn’dest thing. See you the whole bright world before your eye Dwindle as ugly as a wrinkled pea. See Beauty, a pricked bubble: Truth, a lie: Achievement, foam on muddy water. See Yourself a yellow devil suddenly, And all the zest of youth gone journeying-- See you all this, and then you will agree (I think) that jaundice is the damn’dest thing. _Envoi._ Prince of the damned--I ransack my supplies To find a fitting wish at you to fling. Now may you look on Hell through yellow eyes. I think that jaundice is the damn’dest thing. SONG OF HEALTH For friends to stand beside, for foes to fight, For devil’s work to break, for Wrong and Right, And will (however hard) to choose between them: For merry tales, no matter where you glean them: Songs, stars, delight of birds, and summer roses, Sunshine, wherein my friend the dog now dozes: Danger--the zest of life, and Love, the lord Of Life and Death: for every open word Spoken in blame or praise by friend o’ mine To spur me on: for old, good memories, Keeping in my soul’s cellar like good wine: For Truth that’s strong, and Beauty so divine: For animals, and children, and for trees, Both wintry-black and blossoming in white: For homely gardens and for humming bees: For drink, and dreams, and daisies on the sod, Plain food, and fire (when it will light)-- Thank God! GRATITUDE Grateful--ah, yes! I, who have seen The larches brighten green, The orchard’s Easter dress, And those red thousand poppies, In wheat below the coppice: I, who (while others lie in graves Of earth, or rocked with waves), Have leave to walk And sing and talk, With golden lads and girls, My friends, To all the farthest ends, Whither Life whirls.... How can I not feel gratitude for this And other bliss, Which God--dear God--hath sent, For my great wonderment? THE SOLDIER SPEAKS Within my heart I safely keep, England, what things are yours: Your clouds, and cloud-like flocks of sheep That drift o’er windy moors. Possessing naught, I proudly hold Great hills and little gay Hill-towns set black on sunrise-gold At breaking of the day. Though unto me you be austere And loveless, darling land; Though you be cold and hard, my dear, And will not understand. Yet have I fought and bled for you, And, by that self-same sign, Still must I love you, yearn to you, England--how truly mine! A PRESENT FROM FLANDERS Where dewfall and the moon Make precious things, On every small festoon A spider slings: Treading--like dead leaves under All drifted days, Happy the lovers wander In Winter ways; No thought of pain perplexes The peace they hold; No worldly sorrow vexes The lovers. Gold-- All golden gleams the way; How strange such riches Drawn from rough men should be Seven or eight worlds away, Fighting, and carelessly, Dying in ditches! IF WE RETURN (_Rondeau_) If we return, will England be Just England still to you and me? The place where we must earn our bread? We, who have walked among the dead. And watched the smile of agony, And seen the price of Liberty, Which we have taken carelessly From other hands. Nay, we shall dread, If we return, Dread lest we hold blood-guiltily The things that men have died to free. Oh, English fields shall blossom red For all the blood that has been shed By men whose guardians are we, If we return. A PEOPLE RENEWED Now these like men shall live, And like to princes fall. They take what Fate will give At this great festival. And since at length they find That life is sweet indeed, They cast it on the wind To serve their country’s need. See young “Adventure” there (“Make-money-quick” that was) Hurls down his gods that were For Honour and the Cross! Old “Grab-at-Gold” lies low In Flanders. And again (Because men will it so) England is ruled by Men. THE AWAKENING At night, in dream, I saw those fields round home Agleam. Drenched all with dew Beneath day’s newest dome Of gold and blue. All night-- All night they shone for me, and then Came light. And suddenly I woke, and lovely joy! I was at home, with the fields gold as when I was a boy. * * * * * Thus shall all men rise up at last to see, Their dearest dreams golden reality. THE RETURN The unimaginable hour That folds away our joys and pain Holds not the spirit in its power. Therefore I shall come home again (Wherever my poor body lies), To whisper in the summer trees Upon a lazy fall and rise Of wind: and in day’s red decline Walk with the sun those roads of mine, Then rosy with my memories. Though you may see me not, yet hear My laughter in the laughing streams, My footsteps in the running rain.... For sake of all I counted dear And visit still within my dreams I shall at last come home again. LAND OF HEART’S DELIGHT Glory’s a temple open wide, Content, a little shrine. But Heart’s Delight is a land so bright We reckon it half divine. It lies wherever man has lived, But wheresoe’er you find it Its skies are blue with dreams come true, And Heaven is just behind it. Glory’s the universal gleam Of all God gives to men. Content, the little silver dream He sends to one in ten. But Heart’s Delight, all golden bright, Is given to him alone Who has hidden his heart in the deepest part Of a place called Home. GONNEHEM Of Gonnehem it shall be said That we arrived there late and worn With marching, and were given a bed Of lovely straw. And then at morn On rising from deep sleep saw dangle-- Shining in the sun to spangle, The all-blue heaven--branch loads of red Bright cherries which we bought to eat, Dew-wet, dawn-cool, and sunny-sweet. There was a tiny court-yard too, Wherein one shady walnut grew. Unruffled peace the farm encloses-- I wonder if beneath that tree, The meditating hens still be. Are the white walls now gay with roses? Does the small fountain yet run free? I wonder if that dog still dozes.... Some day we must go back to see. THE REST FARM Into this quiet place Of peace we come. The War God hides his face, His mouth is dumb. All reckless, wild decrees His lips repeat, Are hushed by a little breeze In waving wheat. And, like the penance-peace In a heart forlorn, Thrills the word of the trees-- The sigh of the corn. BALLADE OF BEELZEBUB, GOD OF FLIES Some men there are will not abide a rat Within their bivvy. If one chance to peep At them through little beady eyes, then pat, They throw a boot and rouse a mate from sleep To hunt the thing, and on its head they heap Curses quite inappropriate to its size. I care for none of these, but broad and deep I curse Beelzebub--the God of Flies. Others may hunt the mouse with bayonet bright, And beard the glittering beetle in his lair, And fill the arches of the ancient night With clamour, if a stolid toad should stare Sleepily forth from the snug corner where They fain would rest. But I will sympathize With beetle, rat, and toad. I have no care. I curse Beelzebub--the God of Flies. The tiny gnats they swarm in many a cloud, To tangle their small limbs within my hair And sting. The blood-flies dart: and buzzing loud Blue-bottles draw mad patterns on the air. The house-flies creep, and, what is hard to bear, Feed on the poison papers advertise, And rub their hands with relish of such fare! I curse Beelzebub--the God of Flies. _Envoi._ Prince--Clown of Europe--others shall make haste To call damnation on your limbs and eyes. Spending good oaths upon you were a waste: I curse Beelzebub--the God of Flies. TO THE KAISER (_Confidentially_) I met a man--a refugee, And he was blind in both his eyes, sir. And in his pate A silver plate (’Twas rather comical to see!) Shone where the bone skull used to be Before your shrapnel struck him, Kaiser. Shattering in the self-same blast (Blind as a tyrant in his dotage), The foolish wife Who risked her life, As peasants will do till the last, Clinging to one small Belgian cottage. That was their home. The whining child Beside him in the railway carriage Was born there, and The little land Around it (now untilled and wild), Was brought him by his wife on marriage. The child was whining for its mother, And interrupting half he said, sir. I’ll never see the pair again.... Nor they the mother that lies dead, sir. That’s all--a foolish tale, not worth The ear of noble lord or Kaiser. A man un-named, By shrapnel maimed, Wife slain, home levelled to the earth-- That’s all. You see no point? Nor I, sir. Yet on the day you come to die, sir, When all your war dreams cease to be, Perchance will rise Before your eyes (Piercing your hollow heart, Sir Kaiser!) The picture that I chanced to see, Riding (we’ll say) from A to B. ROBERT HERRICK SOLILOQUIZES ON THE C.O. A sweet disorder in the dress Kindles in him small kindliness. My slack puttees him oft have thrown Into a fine distraction. An erring lace he cannot bear, Nor the neglected, flowing hair. Did he command that splendid force The W.V.T.C., of course, He’d see they dressed with careful art, Very precise in every part. And would, I’m certain, never dote On the tempestuous petticoat. THE THREE PADRES (_Acrostics_) _R. C. Chaplain._ Pale-faced, brown-eyed, slight, Upon a lanky bay Rides this modern knight Down rain-beat road to-day; In a little broken shrine Emptying out the blessed wine. _Wesleyan Chaplain._ Much loved by all who know you, Especially you seem Envied for smiles that show you Kindness in a gleam. _Church of England Chaplain._ Helm of our literary ship, Editor of this Gazette,[2] Luck be yours, although you whip My muse into an awful sweat. [2] _Fifth Gloucester Gazette._ See Introduction. WALT WHITMAN DESCRIBES MAJOR W. Nonchalantly he stands On every step of life Tapping his legging. It is just the same Whether we’re expecting A Boche attack Or Church Parade. Nothing flusters him. Men Confidently go To do his bidding: While he stands there Revolving stunts; And nonchalantly Tapping his legging. SERGEANT FINCH He’s a popular sergeant, you bet, For he’ll rough it along with his men, And start up a song in the wet To set ’em all smiling again. His stories are naughty, I’m told, His voice has a sonorous sound; But the envy of all who behold Is the way that his puttees are wound. Blue-eyed, debonair, with a hat Cocked sideways the eighth of an inch, He’s sparrow-like: but for all that The name in his pay-book is Finch. C COMPANY COOK “Do you want j-jam on it?” he’d say, Twirling a red moustache. We chaffed him over rations every day, “Say, is this tea or hash?” “Jim, tell us, do, Why you put sugar in the blooming stew.” “--And there’s a heap o’ coal in this--not half!...” To all our chaff “Do you want j-jam on it?” he’d say. EPITAPH (_T. D._, 13/3/16) A shallow trench for one so tall! “Heads down”--no need for that old call Beneath the upturned sod. Safe lies his body, never fret, Behind that crumpled parapet, And over all this wind and wet His soul sits safe with God. SONNET (_To H. M._) Him, the gods, loving, took while life was young.... Say rather (clinging to a wiser creed) God took, and suddenly on wings of speed Bore to the utter quietness far flung Of fields Elysian where the horrid tongue Of battle is not. For He knew his need Better than those who knew him well indeed, Loving him best. Above his grave is rung The death-bell of all things which hurt the sense And vex the mind and plague the soul of man, Tingeing the rainbow colours of his best Dreams drably: and hath cried a voice, “Go hence! Old Angel Time, to weary whom you can, The while my well-beloved child hath rest.” THE FIRST SPRING DAY (_To A. E. S._) We laid you fast in frozen clay When Winter had enchained the land. (Lad, was it but three weeks to-day?) And now comes Springtime’s messenger with golden tidings in his hand. A mist blows off the thawing earth, And drips from every budding tree, The springs are loosed, and mad with mirth Run lisping in the fallen leaves, or laughing in the sunlight free. Oh you who loved the song so well, Do you not hear the throstle’s note? Nor heed the lovesome light that fell As warm five thousand years ago, when Solomon, the wise king, wrote? “Sweet,” wrote he. Yes, the light is sweet! And maddening sweet to walk in Spring: Yet is the pleasure incomplete-- How should the living understand the melodies that dead throats sing? Thinker and poet clutch in vain The secret of a laughing rill, And Shakespeare’s self could never gain The message blown so mockingly by trumpet of a daffodil. Dear lad, for you I will not call, Nor let a foolish dread be born. A thousand years is still too small To learn the secrets you must learn, ere you arise on Doomsday morn. For you have set your ear to earth To list the growing of the flowers: And catch the strains of Death and Birth: And take the honey that is stored by all the flitting bee-like hours. And you must put to memory The silver music of the stars That raineth down so silently, And all the mighty harmony scrolled on the sky in glittering bars. The music that no man can make, The colours that he cannot see, These out of darkness you shall take And nourish up your growing soul with manna of their mystery. And then when you awake again (And I have slept a little too), How we shall rise to pace anew An earth--where every dream is true, and nothing is unknown but pain. DEFIANCE I saw the orchards whitening To Easter in late Lent. Now struck of hell’s own lightning With branches broken and bent Behold the tall trees rent:-- Beaten with iron rain! And ever in my brain To every shell that’s sent Sounds back this small refrain:-- “You foolish shells, come kill me, Blacken my limbs with flame: I saw the English orchards (And so may die content) All white before I came!” THE ORCHARDS, THE SEA, AND THE GUNS Of sounds which haunt me, these Until I die Shall live. First the trees, Swaying and singing in the moonless night. (The wind being wild) And I A wakeful child, That lay and shivered with a strange delight. Second--less sweet but thrilling as the first-- The midnight roar Of waves upon the shore Of Rossall dear: The rhythmic surge and burst (The gusty rain Flung on the pane!) I loved to hear. And now another sound Wilder than wind or sea, When on the silent night I hear resound In mad delight The guns.... They bark the whole night through; And though I fear, Knowing what work they do, I somehow thrill to hear. DYING IN SPRING Lo, now do I behold Sunshine and greenery And Death together rolled-- Yet not in mockery. Life was a faithful friend; Shall I make other of that dark brother Whom God doth send? My dear companions--you That have been more to me Than grief or gaiety-- This sure is true: That we shall meet once more beyond Death’s door, Again be merry friends Where friendship never ends. VICTORY Whether you shall see it, or I, We cannot tell Now. And it doesn’t matter. For ’twill come when Hell Is covered, and the batter Of guns fades:--Victory! Remember then, you who have fellowed the dead-- Though the worst loudest last Thunder before the sun-- Remember--though the Hun And his brute power has passed-- There are more wars to be won! Oh! while life’s Life, to all Eternity:-- Brothers, press on! Go On To VICTORY! DEATH THE REVEALER Within this dim five-windowed house of sense I watch through coloured glass The shapes that pass. Soon must I journey hence To meet the great winds of the outer world, And see (When God has turned the key) The true and terrible colours of His scheme Which now I dream. F. W. H. (_A Portrait_) A thick-set, dark-haired, dreamy little man, Uncouth to see, Revolving ever this preposterous plan-- Within a web of words spread cunningly To tangle Life--no less, (Could he expect success!) Of Life, he craves not much, except to watch. Being forced to act, He walks behind himself, as if to catch The motive:--an accessory to the fact, Faintly amused, it seems, Behind his dreams. Yet hath he loved the vision of this world, And found it good: The Faith, the fight ’neath Freedom’s flag unfurled, The friends, the fun, the army-brotherhood. But faery-crazed or worse He twists it all to verse! POETRY The poems of Earth are lived, Not scratched with the dirty pen. They are writ in the sense of things And sung in the hearts of men. Sensuous strains of Spring Pouring in silver flood, Summer’s golden delight Warming the waiting blood. Colour, and scent, and sound Of all the changing year:-- These are the poems of Earth Which every man must hear. Sorrow, and pain, and love, Joy, and fear, and regret:-- These are the burning poems That all our hearts beget. These are the poems of Earth That every man must pen: Which you and I make up And straight forget again. PROSE POEMS 1. HEAVEN “Take me, then,” he said to the angel, “upon this great journey to Heaven.” The angel touched his eyelids. “Where, then, is Hell?” asked the man. The spirit pointed out a bored-looking man quite near the throne. “But he is in Heaven,” protested the mortal. “Even so, but he does not know it,” replied the angel. 2. THE MOTH “It is the brightness of God!” exclaimed the moth, beholding the candle. “But it will scorch you worse than Hell’s fire,” warned a friendly insect. “What matter that?” shouted the moth. “It is the brightness of God!” Then it flew into the flame and was shrivelled. 3. THE ARTIST “I am tired of failing!” said the Artist, and he ripped up the picture with his penknife. “Now he will remember my love!” thought the woman, and she smiled. But when the Artist saw the smile on her face, he took his brushes and made a picture of it, and the love of the woman was forgotten. 4. THE WINDOW GLASS Against the dark glass shone like a flower the mouth of his beloved. But in vain he pressed lips of fire upon the panes--in vain! “Then, since Love may not melt,” cried he, “shatter, O Death!” God broke the window with His fist. 5. IN THE FIELD OF TIME In the field of Time, at the end of the path of daisies, grow flaming poppies, taking the eye more readily than the flowers of gold and white. But a man, looking at some he had plucked to wear, discovered (formed by the inside shape and hue of the petals) a black cross at the bottom of every scarlet cup, and cast them from him. 6. BLUE GRASS “Is not this the mountain of blue grass?” asked the stranger. “Why is the grass as green as in our common meadows?” “It was never any other colour,” said the native. “It looked blue from afar,” protested the traveller, “and I have journeyed a long and difficult way to find it.” “You had better have stayed at home,” answered the native. “No,” returned the stranger, with a sad smile, “I had better have come, but now I will go home. The grass there has become blue.” 7. THE POET “What is that lovely thing you have in your heart? Why do you not sing of it?” asked the Muse. “I have not yet lost it,” answered the Poet. 8. SORROW The lean dagger had gone into the Poet’s heart. Shuddering, he plucked it free, lest he should die. And then--by magic--it became in his hand a shining sword fit to smite down the sorrow of the world. 9. THE MIRACLE Why has the Earth taken on a new significance? Why is the smoking mist now white music, and the world’s architecture more wonderful than a fine cathedral? It is something that has happened in your heart. Perhaps (I do not know) you have learnt to hate yourself or to love a fellow-being. 10. FAITH Why am I so many men? It is because you have not Faith. What is Faith? Faith is a fire. But how does a man come by it? Perhaps God gives it him. 11. TIME--THE HORSE Whither does Time trot us? And is moonlight brightening the harness buckles as when children play beneath the rugs, guessing “Where are we?” and father drives home--home--beneath the stars? 12. THE REBUILDING OF REALITY “Behold the sunshine, the green earth, the shining sea!” shouted my Eyes. Said Heart: “Oh, I cannot; the realities I knew are gone! Death’s shadow is upon all this.” “Well, it is yours to create realities anew,” smiled Death. “Hitherto (like the rest) you seem to have done it badly.” 13. THE TOKEN Because of you I am insatiably curious about death. Because of Him who imagined and made you I am able tranquilly to abide the time. Shrivelled in His glory: scorched by His humour: because He has imagined and made you, I trust and am sure. PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED. BRUNSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., S.E., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK. TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE: Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GLOUCESTERSHIRE LAD AT HOME AND ABROAD *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.