The hedge on the left, and the trench on the right,
And the whispering, rustling wood between,
And who knows where in the wood to-night
Death or capture may lurk unseen.
The open field and the figures lying
Under the shade of the apple trees –
Is it the wind in the branches sighing.
Or a German trying to stop a sneeze?
Louder the voices of night come thronging,
But over them all the sound is clear.
Taking me back to the place of my longing
And the cultured sneezes I used to hear.
Lecture-time and my tutor’s ” handkerchief “
Stopping his period’s rounded close,
Like the frozen hand of the German ranker
Down in a ditch with a cold in his nose.
Fm cold, too, and a stealthy snuffle
From the man with a pistol covering me,
And the Bosche moving off with a snap and a shuffle
Break the windows of memory –
I can’t make sure till the moon gets lighter –
Anyway shooting is over bold.
Oh, damn you, get back to your trench, you blighter,
I really can’t shoot a man with a cold.
(Ewart Alan Mackintosh)
More Poetry from Ewart Alan Mackintosh:
Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems based on Topics: Man, Night, Memory, Nature, Place- Peace Upon Earth (Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems)
- Recruiting (Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems)
- In Memoriam - R. M. Stalker (Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems)
- The Charge Of The Light Brigade (Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems)
- In Memoriam (Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems)
- Where The Light Wraith Of Death Goes Dancing (Ewart Alan Mackintosh Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Man Poems, Night Poems, Nature Poems, Place Poems, Memory PoemsBased on Keywords: sneeze, tutor, blighter, ranker, sneezes, snuffle, bosche