The Song of the Guns

Item

The Song of the Guns

HERBERT KAUFMAN
From Mr. Kaufman's book of poems, "The Hell Gate of Soissons." T. Fisher Unwin, Publishers (all rights reserved), London, England, Special permission to reproduce in this book.

HEAR the guns, hear the guns!
High above the splutter-sputter 
Of the Maxim, and the stutter 
Of the rifles, hear them shrieking. 
See the searching shells come sneaking, 
Softly speaking, 
Slyly seeking, 
Thirsting, bursting, shrapnel-leaking 
Where the ranks are thickest-tearing 
Mighty gaps among the daring. 
Charging horse and rider stumble, 
And brigades fall in a jumble; 
Earthworks crumble, 
Standards tumble, 
And the driving bayonets fumble, 
But unsated,
 Still the hated 
Cannon thunder, unabated. 
Hear them rumble, 
Hear them grumble, 
Hear the old song of the guns! 
"Send your sons, 
Send your sons, 
All your near ones, 
All your dear ones; 
Give us food! 
Give us food! 
Give the strongest of your brood. 
Let us feed!
Let us feed!
On the bravest that you breed. 
Give us meat, 
Give us meat, 
Oh, the blood of Valor's sweet!"

And the women make reply: 
Ah, the glory of the lie--
"Look, no tear is in our eye. 
Rather would we see you die 
For your country, than stand by. 
Rather would we boast to tell 
To your children that you fell, 
Than to have you lurk and sell 
Honor for a coward's breath; 
Better far the soldier's death. 
Go and battle for the land. 
Make a stand! 
Make a stand! 
Go and join the dauntless band. 
Take a hand! 
Take a hand! 
Count not us--God will provide!"
Thus the women in their pride 
Mask their hearts--their anguish hide. 
Thus the mother and the bride 
Bid their men to march and ride To the guns,
Hungry guns, 
Rumbling, grumbling for their sons. 
Thus the women ever give, 
Give their nearest, dearest ones 
At the summons of the guns.

What is war to men--theydie.
But the widowed women, aye,
To the end alone, mustlive.

Title: The Song of the Guns
Identifier: greatwar_Eaton114

Item sets: Great Poems of the World War

Media: <html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Song of the Guns</h1> HERBERT KAUFMAN From Mr. Kaufman's book of poems, "The Hell Gate of Soissons." T. Fisher Unwin, Publishers (all rights reserved), London, England, Special permission to reproduce in this book.<div class="stanza">HEAR the guns, hear the guns!High above the splutter-sputter Of the Maxim, and the stutter Of the rifles, hear them shrieking. See the searching shells come sneaking, Softly speaking, Slyly seeking, Thirsting, bursting, shrapnel-leaking Where the ranks are thickest-tearing Mighty gaps among the daring. Charging horse and rider stumble, And brigades fall in a jumble; Earthworks crumble, Standards tumble, And the driving bayonets fumble, But unsated, Still the hated Cannon thunder, unabated. Hear them rumble, Hear them grumble, Hear the old song of the guns! "Send your sons, Send your sons, All your near ones, All your dear ones; Give us food! Give us food! Give the strongest of your brood. Let us feed!Let us feed!On the bravest that you breed. Give us meat, Give us meat, Oh, the blood of Valor's sweet!"</div><div class="stanza">And the women make reply: Ah, the glory of the lie--"Look, no tear is in our eye. Rather would we see you die For your country, than stand by. Rather would we boast to tell To your children that you fell, Than to have you lurk and sell Honor for a coward's breath; Better far the soldier's death. Go and battle for the land. Make a stand! Make a stand! Go and join the dauntless band. Take a hand! Take a hand! Count not us--God will provide!"Thus the women in their pride Mask their hearts--their anguish hide. Thus the mother and the bride Bid their men to march and ride To the guns,Hungry guns, Rumbling, grumbling for their sons. Thus the women ever give, Give their nearest, dearest ones At the summons of the guns.</div><div class="stanza">What is war to men--theydie.But the widowed women, aye,To the end alone, mustlive.</div></body></html>