More songs by the fighting men. Soldiers poets: second series/Malcolm Hemphrey
MALCOLM HEMPHREY
Corporal, Army Ordnance Corps
The New Year[1]
THE white moon like a queenly ship
Sails down the blue and tropic night,
And all the clouds in homage slip
Into her light.
A quiet veil lies on the earth,
Whose silver glory makes me sad—
Beyond, ah me! War's crashing mirth
Rings wild and mad.
Begone, old year, pass from thy own,
And make thou way for newer life;
Nor grace nor pity will atone
For all thy strife.
I watch thy last few embers die,
And thy bleak ashes—blown around
By strong winds that go whirling by—
Sink to the ground.
But rise to sink, and each black flake
Clings as a lambent stain upon
The young year's blossoms as they wake
And then is gone.
Yet wait! some day a greater gale
Of Hope and Faith shall drive all doubt
And sharp despair beyond the pale—
Shall drive without
The soul's infinite sorrow and
Vast shadows of a red, red year,
And undefiled, superbly grand,
Holy and dear
Again the asphodel shall grace
The world's lone, ravaged wilderness;
And Youth, in roaming through that place
Of quietness,
Shall rest beside the peaceful graves
Where wild bees hover in the grass,
Which every warm and soft breeze waves;
And ere he pass
Shall kneel and lift a hymn of praise
For those who fought, without a fear
Or doubting heart to tear, to raise
God's good New Year!
East Africa, January, 1917.
- ↑ The idea of this poem came to me on the last night of the old year as, lying awake long after "lights out," I gazed out at the sky through my tent lattice-window.