THE WESTERN LINE

(Verses Written in an Artiliery Observation-Post During a Relief: Flanders, May, 1915)

By Xanthus

Thor draws a chord invisible Across the shaking sky; I hear the tearing of the shell. The bullets sing and cry, As charging through the flames of hell The batteries go by.

The gunners laugh about the task That man to man has given: Like Titans now the guns unmask And fire the veils of heaven. Above the cloud what lights are gleaming? God's batteries are those, Or souls of soldiers homeward streaming To banquet with their foes? The floods of battle ebb and flow, The soldiers to Valhalla go!

They say that when the day awoke And the dying night was wan, Harry of England rod the smoke And led the English van: And bowmen in the battle-glare Rose from the ghostly dew: The cloth-yard sang upon the air And the gray goose-feather flew! Harry of England is awake, His archers mind not trench or stake!

And men have seen the Emperor, The Eagle of the South: God grant the bonds be loosed by Thor That bind that marble mouth! The silver roads of conquest lie