Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/91

 Terribly swift—a moment—it is gone. Can men be passing there on high, so swiftly through the air?)

Pass on! Behold the charge; (Ready! Run low! Run wide! Our country calls! Our country, and our King!) Over the open fields, trampling the crops, dropping to fire, rising to run; (Some never rising, never again to rise ;) Straggling, thinning, wavering, (God, it is hopeless!—it is too muc!) Onward, onward pressing, rushing and driving onward; (I did not know that men could be so reckless and brave!) Mounting the opposite slope, cutting their way through entanglements; Gaining the outer trenches, (deadly work for the bayonets!) Shouting, cursing, groaning, stabbing, wrestling, clubbing with butts, fighting at last with bare fists; Annihilating the enemy, capturing the position! (Victory! Victory! Victory! Our country calls! Our country, and our King!)