Marlborough and other poems. Charles Hamilton Sorley

XXIV PEER GYNT 62 XXV TO POETS 63 XXVI "IF I HAVE SUFFERED PAIN" 64 XXVII WHOM THEREFORE WE IGNORANTLY WORSHIP 66 XXVIII DEUS LOQUITUR 67 XXIX EXPECTANS EXPECTAVI 68 OF WAR AND DEATHTable of Contents XXX "ALL THE HILLS AND VALES ALONG" 71 XXXI TO GERMANY 73​ XXXII "A HUNDRED THOUSAND MILLION MITES WE GO" 74 XXXIII TWO SONNETS 76 XXXIV A SONNET 78 XXXV "THERE IS SUCH CHANGE IN ALL THOSE FIELDS" 79 XXXVI "I HAVE NOT BROUGHT MY ODYSSEY" 81 XXXVII IN MEMORIAM S. C. W., V.C. 85 XXXVIII BEHIND THE LINES 86 ILLUSTRATIONS IN PROSE 93 NOTES 127

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      BARBURY CAMP

       Table of Contents

      OF THE DOWNS

       Table of Contents

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      I

      BARBURY CAMP

      We burrowed night and day with tools of lead,

       Heaped the bank up and cast it in a ring

       And hurled the earth above. And Caesar said,

       "Why, it is excellent. I like the thing."

       We, who are dead,

       Made it, and wrought, and Caesar liked the thing.

       And here we strove, and here we felt each vein

       Ice-bound, each limb fast-frozen, all night long.

       And here we held communion with the rain

       That lashed us into manhood with its thong,

       Cleansing through pain.

       And the wind visited us and made us strong.

       Up from around us, numbers without name,

       Strong men and naked, vast, on either hand

       Pressing us in, they came. And the wind came

       And bitter rain, turning grey all the land.

       That was our game,

       To fight with men and storms, and it was grand.

      ​For many days we fought them, and our sweat

       Watered the grass, making it spring up green,

       Blooming for us. And, if the wind was wet,

       Our blood wetted the wind, making it keen

       With the hatred

       And wrath and courage that our blood had been.

       So, fighting men and winds and tempests, hot

       With joy and hate and battle-lust, we fell

       Where we fought. And God said, "Killed at last then? What!

       Ye that are too strong for heaven, too clean for hell,

       (God said) stir not.

       This be your heaven, or, if ye will, your hell."

       So again we fight and wrestle, and again

       Hurl the earth up and cast it in a ring.

       But when the wind comes up, driving the rain

       (Each rain-drop a fiery steed), and the mists rolling

       Up from the plain,

       This wild procession, this impetuous thing,

       Hold us amazed. We mount the wind-cars, then

       Whip up the steeds and drive through all the world,

       Searching to find somewhere some brethren,

       Sons of the winds and waters of the world.

       We, who were men,