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قراءة كتاب The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems

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The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems

The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH
AND OTHER POEMS

BY ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

AUTHOR OF
“SONGS OF ACTION,” “SONGS OF THE ROAD”

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1919

All Rights Reserved

PREFACE

I must apologize for the size of this booklet, which can only be justified on the grounds that there is some demand for the contents as recitations. I hope presently to combine whatever is worth preserving in my three volumes of verse, so as to make a single collection.

Arthur Conan Doyle.

CONTENTS

  PAGE
THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH 9
VICTRIX 13
THOSE OTHERS 16
HAIG IS MOVING 20
THE GUNS IN SUSSEX 22
YPRES 26
GROUSING 37
THE VOLUNTEER 40
THE NIGHT PATROL 44
THE WRECK ON LOCH MCGARRY 47
THE BIGOT 55
THE ATHABASCA TRAIL 62
RAGTIME! 65
CHRISTMAS IN WARTIME 68
LINDISFAIRE 70
A PARABLE 75
FATE 76

THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH

Men of the Twenty-first,
Up by the Chalk Pit Wood,
Weak from our wounds and our thirst,
Wanting our sleep and our food
After a day and a night.
God! shall I ever forget?
Beaten and broke in the fight,
But sticking it, sticking it yet,
Trying to hold the line,
Fainting and spent and done;
Always the thud and the whine,
Always the yell of the Hun.
Northumberland, Lancaster, York,


Durham and Somerset,
Fighting alone, worn to the bone,
But sticking it, sticking it yet.
Never a message of hope,
Never a word of cheer,
Fronting Hill 70's shell-swept slope,
With the dull, dead plain in our rear;
Always the shriek of the shell,
Always the roar of the burst,
Always the tortures of Hell,
As waiting and wincing we cursed
Our luck, the guns, and the Boche.
When our Corporal shouted “Stand to!”
And I hear some one cry, “Clear the front for the Guards!”—
And the Guards came through.
Our throats they were parched and hot,
But, Lord! if you'd heard the cheer,


Irish, Welsh and Scot,
Coldstream and Grenadier—
Two Brigades, if you please,
Dressing as straight as a hem.
We, we were down on our knees,
Praying for us and for them,
Praying with tear-wet cheek,
Praying with outstretched hand.
Lord! I could speak for a week,
But how could you understand?
How could your cheeks be wet?
Such feelin's don't come to you;
But how can me or my mates forget
How the Guards came through?
“Five yards left extend!”
It passed from rank to rank,
And line after line, with never a bend,
And a touch of the London swank.


A trifle of swank and dash,
Cool as a home parade,
Twinkle, glitter and flash,
Flinching never a shade,
With the shrapnel right in their face,

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