Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/102

60 Heart panged, head singing dizzily pained—

To do my part.

Blindness a moment. Sick.

There the men are.

Bayonets ready: click!

Time goes quick;

A stumbled prayer somehow a blazing star

In a blue night where?

Again prayer.

The tongue trips. Start:

How's time? Soon now. Two minutes or less.

The guns' fury mounting higher.

Their utmost. I lift a silent hand. Unseen I bless

Those hearts will follow me.

And beautifully

Now beautifully my will grips.

Soul calm and round and filmed and white!

A shout! "Men, no such order as retire!"

I nod.

The whistle's twixt my lips

I catch

A wan, worn smile at me.

Dear men!

The pale wrist-watch

The quiet hand ticks on amid the din.

The guns again

Rise to a last fury, to a rage, a lust:

Kill! Pound! Kill! Pound! Pound!