X
Press inward, inward, Normandy;
Press inward, Cleres and Vaux;
Press inward, Mons and Valery;
Press inward, Yvetot.
Stand hard the men of the Beechen Ford
(Oh! William of Falaise, my lord!)
Battle is a net and a struggle in a cord.
Battle is a wrestler’s throw.
The middle holding as the wings made good,
The far wings closing as the centre stood.
Battle is a mist and battle is a wood,
And battle is won so.