Time. Time!
I hear my whistle shriek,
Between teeth set;
I fling an arm up,
Scramble up the grime
Over the parapet!
I'm up. Go on.
Something meets us.
Head down into the storm that greets us.
A wail.
Lights. Blurr.
Gone.
On, on. Leăd. Leăd. Hail.
Spatter. Whirr! Whirr!
"Toward that patch of brown;
Direction left." Bullets a stream.
Devouring thought crying in a dream.
Men, crumpled, going down....
Go on. Go.
Deafness. Numbness. The loudening tornado.
Bullets. Mud. Stumbling and skating.
My voice's strangled shout:
"Steady pace, boys!"
The still light: gladness.
"Look, sir. Look out!"
Ha! ha! Bunched figures waiting.
Revolver levelled quick!
Flick! Flick!
Red as blood.
Germans. Germans.
Good! O good!
Cool madness.
X.—THE LAST MORNING
Come now, O Death,
While I am proud,
While joy and awe are breath,
And heart beats loud!
While all around me stand
Men that I love,
The wind blares aloud, the grand
Sun wheels above.
Naked I stand to-day
Before my doom,
Welcome what comes my way,
Whatever come.
What is there more to ask
Than that I have?—
Companions, love, a task,
And a deep grave!
Come then, Eternity,
If thou my lot;
Having been thus, I cannot be
As if I had not.