Ubique means that warnin’ grunt the perished linesman knows,
When o’er ’is strung an’ sufferin’ front the shrapnel sprays ’is foes;
An’ as their firin’ dies away the ’usky whisper runs
From lips that ’aven’t drunk all day: ‘The Guns! Thank Gawd, the Guns!’
Extreme, depressed, point-blank or short, end-first or any’ow,
From Colesberg Kop to Quagga’s Poort—from Ninety-Nine till now—
By what I’ve ’eard the others tell an’ I in spots ’ave seen,
There’s nothin’ this side ’Eaven or ’Ell Ubique doesn’t mean!
THE RETURN
(ALL ARMS)
Peace is declared, an’ I return
To ’Ackneystadt, but not the same;
Things ’ave transpired which made me learn
The size and meanin’ of the game.
I did no more than others did,
I don’t know where the change began;
I started as a average kid,
I finished as a thinkin’ man.
If England was what England seems,
An’ not the England of our dreams,
But only putty, brass, an’ paint,
’Ow quick we’d drop ’er! But she ain’t!
Before my gappin’ mouth could speak
I ’eard it in my comrade’s tone;
I saw it on my neighbour’s cheek
Before I felt it flush my own.
An’ last it come to me—not pride,
Nor yet conceit, but on the ’ole
(If such a term may be applied),
The makin’s of a bloomin’ soul.
Rivers at night that cluck an’ jeer,
Plains which the moonshine turns to sea,
Mountains that never let you near,
An’ stars to all eternity;
An’ the quick-breathin’ dark that fills
The ’ollows of the wilderness,
When the wind worries through the ’ills—
These may ’ave taught me more or less.
Towns without people, ten times took,
An’ ten times left an’ burned at last;
An’ starvin’ dogs that come to look
For owners when a column passed;
An’ quiet, ’omesick talks between
Men, met by night, you never knew
Until—’is face—by shellfire seen—
Once—an’ struck off. They taught me too.