and V.,
And sometimes bacon (very rarely ham);
Or, where St. Quentin towers above the plain,
Have seen thee scan the awful scene and sigh,
Pick up a spade, then put it down again
And wipe a furtive tear-drop from thine eye.
And many a Sabbath have I seen thee stride
With stately step across the Merville Square,
Beaming with pleasure, full of conscious pride,
Breaking the hearts of all the _jeunes filles_ there;
A bowler hat athwart thy stubborn locks
And round thy neck a tie of brilliant blue,
Thy legs in football shorts, thy feet in socks
Of silken texture and vermilion hue.
Impassive Chu (or should I call thee "Chow"?),
Say, what hast thou to do with all this fuss,
The ceaseless hurry and the beastly row,
The buzzing plane and roaring motor-bus,
While far away the sullen Hwang-ho rolls
His lazy waters to the Eastern Sea,
And sleepy mandarins sit on bamboo poles
Imbibing countless cups of China tea?
A year ago thou digged'st in feverish haste
Against the whelming onset of the Hun
A hundred miles of trench across the waste--
A year ago--and now the War is won;
But thou remainest still with pick and spade,
Celestial delver, patient son of toil!
To fill the trenches thou thyself hast made
And roll the twisted wire-in even coil.
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