A Letter from the Trenches to a School Friend

I have not brought my OdysseyWith me here across the sea;But you'll remember, when I sayHow, when they went down Sparta way,To sandy Sparta, long ere dawn5Horses were harnessed, rations drawn,Equipment polished sparkling bright,And breakfasts swallowed (as the whiteOf eastern heavens turned to gold) -The dogs barked, swift farewells were told.10The sun springs up, the horses neigh,Crackles the whip thrice-then away!From sun-go-up to sun-go-downAll day across the sandy downThe gallant horses galloped, till15The wind across the downs more chillBlew, the sun sank and all the roadWas darkened, that it only showedRight at the end the town's red lightAnd twilight glimmering into night.20

The horses never slackened tillThey reached the doorway and stood still.Then came the knock, the unlading; thenThe honey-sweet converse of men,The splendid bath, the change of dress,25Then - oh the grandeur of their Mess,The henchmen, the prim stewardess!And oh the breaking of old ground,The tales, after the port went round!(The wondrous wiles of old Odysseus,30Old Agamemnon and his misuseOf his command, and that young chitParis - who didn't care a bitFor Helen - only to annoy herHe did it really, K.T.A.)35But soon they led amidst the dinThe honey-sweet -- in,Whose eyes were blind, whose soul had sight,Who knew the fame of men in fight -Bard of white hair and trembling foot,40Who sang whatever God might putInto his heart.And there he sung,Those war-worn veterans among,Tales of great war and strong hearts wrung,45Of clash of arms, of council's brawl,Of beauty that must early fall,Of battle hate and battle joyBy the old windy walls of Troy.They felt that they were unreal then,50Visions and shadow-forms, not men.But those the Bard did sing and say(Some were their comrades, some were they)Took shape and loomed and strengthened moreGreatly than they had guessed of yore.55And now the fight begins again,The old war-joy, the old war-pain.Sons of one school across the seaWe have no fear to fight -

And soon, oh soon, I do not doubt it,60With the body or without it,We shall all come tumbling downTo our old wrinkled red-capped town.Perhaps the road up llsley way,The old ridge-track, will be my way.65High up among the sheep and sky,Look down on Wantage, passing by,And see the smoke from Swindon town;And then full left at Liddington,Where the four winds of heaven meet70The earth-blest traveller to greet.And then my face is toward the south,There is a singing on my mouthAway to rightward I descryMy Barbury ensconced in sky,75Far underneath the Ogbourne twins,And at my feet the thyme and whins,The grasses with their little crownsOf gold, the lovely Aldbourne downs,And that old signpost (well I knew80That crazy signpost, arms askew,Old mother of the four grass ways).And then my mouth is dumb with praise,For, past the wood and chalkpit tiny,A glimpse of Marlborough --!85So I descend beneath the railTo warmth and welcome and wassail.

This from the battered trenches - rough,Jingling and tedious enough.And so I sign myself to you:90One, who some crooked pathways knewRound Bedwyn: who could scarcely leaveThe Downs on a December eve:Was at his happiest in shorts,And got - not many good reports!95Small skill of rhyming in his hand -But you'll forgive - you'll understand.