AT dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun In the wild purple of the glow'ring sun, Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one, Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire. The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear, Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire. Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear, They leave their trenches, going over the top, While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists, And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists, Flounders in mud. O Jesus, make it stop! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER A JOURNEY by THOMAS HARDY A NICE CORRESPONDENT by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON ANACTORIA by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 40. AL-MUKIT by EDWIN ARNOLD SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 26. BEYOND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE CATHEDRAL PORCH by LAURENCE BINYON THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE NOVEL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE BONNIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWAY by ROBERT BURNS MARI MAGNO; OR TALES ON BOARD: THE MATE'S STORY by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH |