George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917.
Robert Nichols
The Days March
T
Mile succeeds to mile;
Shaking the noonday sunshine
The guns lunge out awhile,
And then are still awhile.
The reeking, powdery dust
Ascends and cakes our faces
With a striped, sweaty crust.
The heat throbs on the air …
The white road’s dusty radiance
Assumes a dark glare.
And eyes that cannot rest,
And a black heart burning
In a stifled breast,
I feel the road unroll,
And keep my senses straightened
Toward to-morrow’s goal.
Which we must reach at last,
Day and night thunders
A black and chilly blast.
Hearts forget spleen,
For by that mighty winnowing
Being is blown clean.
Strength in the hand,
A spirit dares, dies, forgives,
And can understand!
After grief and shame,
And along the wind of death
Throws a clean flame.
Mile succeeds to mile;
Suddenly battering the silence
The guns burst out awhile …