A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/The Soldier Speaks
THE SOLDIER SPEAKS
IF courage thrives on reeking slaughter,
And he who kills is lord
Of beauty and of loving laughter—
Gird on me a sword!
If death be dearest comrade proven,
If life be coward's mate,
If Nazareth of dreams be woven—
Give me fighter's fate!
........
If God be thrilled by a battle cry,
If He can bless the moaning fight,
If when the trampling charge goes by
God himself is the leading Knight;
If God laughs when the gun thunders,
If He yells when the bullet sings—
Then my stoic soul but wonders
How great God can do such things!
........
The white gulls wheeling over the plough,
The sun, the reddening trees—
We being enemies, I and thou,
There is no meaning to these.
There is no flight on the wings of Spring,
No scent in the summer rose;
The roundelays that the blackbirds sing—
There is no meaning in those!
If you must kill me—why the lark,
The hawthorn bud, and the corn?
Why do the stars bedew the dark?
Why is the blossom born?
If I must kill you—why the kiss
Which made you? There is no why!
If it be true we were born for this—
Pitiful Love, Good-bye!
........
Not for the God of battles!
For Honour, Freedom and Right.
And saving of Gentle Beauty,
We have gone down to fight!