Ballads of Battle/1815-1915: One Hundred Years Ago Today
1815-1915
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO TO-DAY
TO MY GRANDFATHER WHO FOUGHT AT WATERLOO
Affectionately Dedicated to
my Four Paternal Aunts.
Once more the unsheathed sword, once more the speeding shell;Once more unleashing of the Hounds of Hell;The Nations rage together, and againThe Kings are joined for battle on the plain;Old Europe armed goes forth to smite and slay,Just as a Hundred Years to-day! Grandsire, whom I have never seen, nor held whose hand,Nor heard whose voice—stentorian in command—From some Valhalla of the British deadPerchance thou watchest where our lines are spread:Strengthen my hand; thy kinsman's heart inspireWith some spark of thy ancient martial fire—May my steel be as keen, I pray,As yours, a Hundred Years to-day!
Oft as a boy I strove to swing thy bladeFrom out the scabbard where it long had laid,And fearful felt its edge—the notch, 'twas said,Was compliment from a dead Chasseur's head—And all day waged the mimic fight,Waiting for Blucher—and nurse!—and night: Thank God! and I see the children playAs I did—was it Yesterday?
I hear your guns growl on through Spain,And then, I hear them once againTake up the old terrific tuneUpon that far-off Eighteenth June—Mine ears have learned the measure wellAt Festubert and Neuve Chapelle—Our friends, forth with us in this fray,Were foes a Hundred Years to-day !
When you rode through this war-racked landDidst ever, prithee, kiss a handTo Jeanne, Yvonne, Marcelle, Marie—Grand-dames of those wave hands to me?Were girls as sportive and as gay?—Didst have the heart to say them Nay?—Was't easy parting with thy payA Hundred Years Ago to-day?
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Grandsire, whose good right hand is long since dust,I hold the same true steel in sacred trust;From some Valhalla of the British deadPerchance thou watchest where our lines are spread;Thou knewest whence should come the powerWhen dark the battle-clouds did lower—May thy God be my shield and stayAs thine a Hundred Years to-day!
Flanders, 18th June, 1915.