8 May: "I Sing the Battle" by Harry Kemp

I Sing the Battle By Harry Kemp

I SING the song of the great clean guns that belch forth death at will.

"Ah, but the wailing mothers, the lifeless forms and still!"

I sing the song of the billowing flags, the bugles that cry before.

"Ah, but the skeletons flapping rags, the lips that speak no more!"

I sing the clash of bayonets, of sabres that flash and cleave.

"And wilt thou sing the maimed ones, too, that go with pinnedup sleeve?"

I sing acclaimed generals that bring the victory home.

"Ah, but the broken bodies that drip like honey-comb!"

I sing of hosts triumphant, long ranks of marching men.

"And wilt thou sing the shadowy hosts that never march again?"