Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/92

 66 LINCOLN COLCORD

(On the open field lie many huddled shapes ;

The wounded are stirring feebly out there, like men

awaking from a violent dream ; They lift their heads, they stretch their arms, they

struggle to rise on their elbows ; They sit up, staring around — they crawl like snails

among the crops ; A screaming horse dashes athwart the line, dragging

his entrails on the ground.)

8.

Behold the ships at sea ;

A long and weary time they had been waiting, con- stantly on the alert, nerves strained to breaking ;

In smothering, foggy weather, in gloomy days, in pitch-black nights, in wild and desperate gales ;

Anxious for battle, longing to sight the enemy, every one on the lookout, chafing and growling ;

Anything, anything, boys, to end this tedious monotony !

(Maybe an unseen deliverer is at hand.)

The captain was walking the bridge that morning, the crew were at breakfast, the navigating officer was winding his chronometers ;

Suddenly, from forward, a frantic cry ! A man runs aft, pointing to windward ;

The captain whips out his glasses, scans the horizon ;

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