: Trench Ballads and Other Verses by Garrett Erwin Clarkson - World War 1914-1918 Poetry

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PART I--TRENCH BALLADS

PART II--PRE-WAR POEMS

MY COMRADES IN THE RANKS.

TRENCHES.

Trenches dripping, wet and cold-- Trenches hot and dry-- Long, drab, endless trenches Stretching far and nigh.

Zigzag, fretted, running sere From the cold North Sea, 'Cross the muddy Flanders plain And vales of Picardy.

Through the fields of new, green wheat Filled with poppies red, While abandoned plow-shares show Whence the peasants fled.

Past the great cathedral towns, Where each gorgeous spire Torn and tottering, slowly wilts 'Neath the Vandals' ire.

Hiding in the shadows Of the hills of French Lorraine, And bending south through rugged heights To the land of sun again.

Trenches, endless trenches, Shod with high desire-- All that man holds more than life, And touched with patriot fire.

Trenches, endless trenches, Where tightening draws the cord 'Round the throat of brutal Kultur, And its red and dripping sword.

Trenches, endless trenches, Bleached and choked with rain, Could ye speak what tales ye'd tell Of honor, death and pain.

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