A league and a league from the trenches — from the traversed maze of the lines,
Where daylong the sniper watches and daylong the bullet whines,
And the cratered earth is in travail with mines and with countermines —
Here, where haply some woman dreamed, (are those her roses that bloom
In the garden beyond the windows of my littered working-room ?)
We have decked the map for our masters as a bride is decked for the groom.
Fair, on each lettered numbered square — cross-road and mound and wire,
Loophole, redoubt and emplacement — lie the targets their mouths desire;
Gay with purples and browns and blues, have we traced them their arcs of fire.
And ever the type-keys clatter; and ever our keen wires bring
Word from the watchers a-crouch below, word from the watchers a-wing;
And ever we hear the distant growl of our hid guns thundering.
Hear it hardly, and turn again to our maps, where the trench-lines crawl,
Red on the gray and each with a sign for the ranging shrapnel’s fall-
Snakes that our masters shall scotch at dawn, as is written here on the wall.
For the weeks of our waiting draw to a close. . . . There is scarcely a leaf astir
In the garden beyond my windows, where the twilight shadows blurr
The blaze of some woman’s roses. . . .
” Bombardment orders, sir.”
(Gilbert Frankau)
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Based on Topics: Fairness Poems, Fire Poems, Woman Poems, Garden Poems, Desire Poems, Sign & Symbol PoemsBased on Keywords: targets, redoubt, blurr, daylong, sniper, a-wing, cross-road, loophole, bombardment, cratered, trench-lines