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Frank Swannell Diaries: Part I

Diaries of Frank Cyril Swannell Learn more.

*All transcriptions are provided by volunteers, and the accuracy of the transcriptions is not guaranteed. Please be sure to verify the information by viewing the image record, or visiting the BC Archives in person. 

BC Archives MS-0392 - Box 1, Volume 4-5

*Please note that archival source materials are original historical documents that have not been censored, reviewed or otherwise altered by the Royal BC Museum. Some materials may contain content that is racist, sexist or otherwise offensive. The Royal BC Museum is only the custodian of archival materials; the content does not necessarily reflect the views or policies of the Royal BC Museum.

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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 Fast frozen in his brow: Would those imperious lips were free To give their orders now! The floods of battle ebb and flow, The soldiers to Valhalla go!

Beyond the thunder of the guns, Beyond the flaming line, Far from this sky of echoing bronze, The English valleys shine, The gardens moated in the wolds By wind and water kissed, And dainty girls that England folds In sunshine and in mist. The floods of battle ebb and flow, The soldiers to Valhalla go!

The fighting men go charging past With the battle in their eyes, The fighting men go reeling past Like gods in poor disguise: The glorious men whom none will see, No wife or mother more, Winged with the wings of Victory And helmeted by Thor! Above the cloud what lights are gleamin God's batteries are those, Or souls of soldiers homeward streamin To banquet with their foes?

BC Archives, MS-0392 Box 1 Volume 5 / FRANK SWANNELL PAPERS / Diary and enclosures, 1916.

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