Page:Men of Letters, Scott, 1916.djvu/255

 RUPERT BROOKE

I

war has at last given birth to a good battle-song. It rings out from the next number of New Numbers—that grey quarterly which a quartet of young poets began to issue some twelve months ago, and which is still courageously not merely keeping alive in spite of the war, but actually growing more living by dint of it. One of the quartet (and the greatest, I still firmly believe) is our fellow-townsman, Mr. Lascelles Abercrombie. Another, the youngest, is Mr. Rupert Brooke—and it is from his lips that the new song has sprung. It is not a long song, so I can repeat it all. Its title is simply The Soldier. It accepts the traditional form.

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