The Big Thing
(1918)
It was a British Linesman. His face was like a fist,
His sleeve all stripes and chevrons from the elbow to the wrist.
Said he to an American (with other words of his):
"It's a big thing you are doing—do you know how big it is?"
"I guess, Sir," that American inevitably drawled,
"Big Bill's our proposition an' we're goin' for him bald.
You guys may have him rattled, but I figure it's for us
To slaughter, quarter, grill or bile, an' masticate the cuss."
"I hope your teeth," the Linesman said, "are equal to your tongue—
But that's the sort of carrion that's better when it's hung.
Yet—the big thing you're doing I should like to make you see!"
"Our stunt," said that young Yankee, " is to set the whole world free!"
The Linesman used a venial verb (and other parts of speech):
"That's just the way the papers talk and politicians preach!
But apart from gastronomical designs upon the Hun—
And the rather taller order—there's a big thing that you've done"
"Why, say! The biggest thing on earth, to any cute onlooker,
Is Old Man Bull and Uncle Sam aboard the same blamed hooker!
One crew, one port, one speed ahead, steel-true twin-hearts within her:
One ding-dong English-singin' race—a race without a winner!"
The boy's a boyish mixture—half high-brow and half droll:
So brave and na'fve and cock-a-hoop—so sure yet pure of soul!
Behold him bright and beaming as the bride- groom after church—
The Linesman looking wistful as a rival in the lurch!
"I'd love to be as young as you —" he doesn't even swear —
"Love to be joining up anew and spoiling for my share!
But when your blood runs cold and old, and brain and bowels squirm,
The only thing to ease you is some fresh blood in the firm.
"When the war was young, and we were young, we felt the same as you: A few short months of glory—and we didn't care how few! French, British and Dominions, it took us all the same— Who knows but what the Hun himself enjoyed his dirty game!
"We tumbled out of tradesmen's carts, we fell off office stools;
Fathers forsook their families, boys ran away from schools;
Mothers untied their apron-strings, lovers unloosed their arms—
All Europe was a wedding and the bells were war's alarms!
"The chime had changed—You took a pull—the old wild peal rings on
With the clamour and the glamour of a Generation gone.
Their fun — their fire—their hearts' desire—are born again in You!"
"That the big thing we're doin'?" " It's as big as Man can do!"
Forerunners1
(1900)
When I lie dying in my bed,
A grief to wife, and child, and friend,—
How I shall grudge you gallant dead
Your sudden, swift, heroic end!
Dear hands will minister to me,
Dear eyes deplore each shallower breath:
You had your battle-cries, you three,
To cheer and charm you to your death.
You did not wane from worse to worst,
Under coarse drug or futile knife,
But in one grand mad moment burst
From glorious life to glorious Life. . . .
These twenty years ago and more,
'Mid purple heather and brown crag,
Our whole school numbered scarce a score,
And three have fallen for the Flag.
You two have finished on one side,
You who were friend and foe at play;
Together you have done and died;
But that was where you learnt the way.
And the third face! I see it now,
So delicate and pale and brave.
The clear grey eye, the unruffled brow,
Were ripening for a soldier's grave.
Ah! gallant three, too young to die!
The pity of it all endures. Yet, in my own poor passing, I
Shall lie and long for such as yours.
FOOTNOTES
1. H. P. P.—F. M.—J. W. A. C. St. Ninian's, Moffat, 1879-1880; South Africa, 1899-1900.
Uppingham Song
(1913)
Ages ago (as to-day they are reckoned)
I was a lone little, blown little fag:
Panting to heel when Authority beckoned,
Spoiling to write for the Uppingham Mag! Thirty years on seemed a terrible time then — Thirty years back seems a twelvemonth or so. Little I saw myself spinning this rhyme then — Less do I feel that it's ages ago!
Ages ago that was Somebody's study;
Somebody Else had the study next door.
O their long walks in the fields dry or muddy!
O their long talks in the evenings of yore!
Still, when they meet, the old evergreen fellows
Jaw in the jolly old jargon as though
Both were as slender and sound in the bellows
As they were ages and ages ago!
O but the ghosts at each turn I could show you! —
Ghosts in low collars and little cloth caps—
Each of 'em now quite an elderly O.U.—
Wiser, no doubt, and as pleasant—perhaps!
That's where poor Jack lit the slide up with tollies,
Once when the quad was a foot deep in snow—
When a live Bishop was one of the Follies1 — Ages and ages and ages ago!
Things