Site Search
Random Quote
Why seek to scale Mount Everest...

Main Menu
In the Spotlight !
This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
All Entries 1997 - 2002
All Entries 2002
Odds and Ends, Other Items Of Interest About Robert
Archives > Books and Poetry > Poetry > Rhymes of a Red Cross Man (1916) > The Call (France, August first, 1914)

The Call (France, August first, 1914)

Published by Susan on 07/23/2003 (4047 reads)
Far and near, high and clear...

Far and near, high and clear,
   Hark to the call of War!
Over the gorse and the golden dells,
Ringing and swinging of clamorous bells,
Praying and saying of wild farewells:
   War! War! War!

   High and low, all must go:
   Hark to the shout of War!
Leave to the women the harvest yield;
Gird ye, men, for the sinister field;
A sabre instead of a scythe to wield:
   War! Red War!

   Rich and poor, lord and boor,
   Hark to the blast of War!
Tinker and tailor and millionaire,
Actor in triumph and priest in prayer,
Comrades now in the hell out there,
   Sweep to the fire of War!

   Prince and page, sot and sage,
   Hark to the roar of War!
Poet, professor and circus clown,
Chimney-sweeper and fop o' the town,
Into the pot and be melted down:
   Into the pot of War!

   Women all, hear the call,
   The pitiless call of War!
Look your last on your dearest ones,
Brothers and husbands, fathers, sons:
Swift they go to the ravenous guns,
   The gluttonous guns of War.

   Everywhere thrill the air
   The maniac bells of War.
There will be little of sleeping to-night;
There will be wailing and weeping to-night;
Death's red sickle is reaping to-night:
   War! War! War!

Navigate through the articles
Previous article The Fool Forward Next article
Voters total: 0
Average: 0
The comments are owned by the author. We aren't responsible for their content.