Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/90

Lionel Haweis In league, for the sake of his message,
 * With the shadow of death.

'Take it down-not much to remember,
 * And—you're the right sort—

You're white—you'll see that it gets there
 * For it's devilish short.

They got me-but our fellows were coming,
 * And didn't they melt!—

They got me—but dropped me-then shot me
 * Here—under the belt.

'Get it down, but Lord! there's the missus! Oh, well I don't know— She's a brick. . . end to end of the country— Let it go-let it go! I want all the boys—the Dominion— To pile on the coals; I want it—to scorch in their faces
 * And burn in their souls!

'And tell 'em—oh! tell 'em to hurry
 * And share in the brunt

We're bearing—we want every jack man
 * Of'em all at the front . ..

That's all—get it down like a good 'un—
 * Let me down by the head,—

By God! but I wouldn't have missed it. . .'
 * And he sinks on the bed.

But the vision already is shrinking
 * As the patriot dies;

And the people get onto the side-walk
 * With a blink in their eyes

'That's a home-thrust,' cries one, 'from our fellows
 * Who are bearing the brunt!

That Allen's a corker, and—damn it!
 * To the Front! To the Front!'