<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">Arras, 1917</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I HEAR a rat scurrying</p><p class="line">At the end o' the street</p><p class="line">Across the moon-lit stones, hurrying</p><p class="line">To dingier retreat--</p><p class="line">A ruined house against the moon,</p><p class="line">Black like cob-web silhouette--</p><p class="line">And the wind runs around</p><p class="line">Like a whining hound</p><p class="line">Seeking its master,</p><p class="line">Faster and faster ;</p><p class="line">And I'll never forget</p><p class="line">How chill strikes the moon !</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And a heavy sound,</p><p class="line">A hollow tread, comes after me--</p><p class="line">I never glance around,</p><p class="line">But, onward hurrying, flee</p><p class="line">From the haunting dread</p><p class="line">Of the unknown tread ;</p><p class="line">And I hold my breath :</p><p class="line">Is it Death ?</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">This is a city desolate ;</p><p class="line">It stands, but not inviolate,</p><p class="line">A virgin place that rape</p><p class="line">Has spoiled in brutish fight</p><p class="line">Of soul that, sobbing, seeming dies :</p><p class="line">And the black windows gape</p><p class="line">Like anguished eyes</p><p class="line">In mute horror thro' the night!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Ah ! is the bruisèd spirit fled ?</p><p class="line">Come ! and I will lead thro' winding thread</p><p class="line">Of pulseless streets, blanched with light</p><p class="line">Of th' anmic moon, coldly bright!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Follow me, and I will lead a quest</p><p class="line">Along lone lanes by saintly stones oppressed.</p><p class="line">Fear not the shadows ! look, how warm</p><p class="line">And golden strikes that streak of light</p><p class="line">That steals, like ghostly finger form,</p><p class="line">Into the heart of night!</p><p class="line">Behind that broken barricade</p><p class="line">There dwells a man, a woman, and a maid;</p><p class="line">They vend their wares all day</p><p class="line">In humble, cheery, careless way,</p><p class="line">And whisper low of days gone by--</p><p class="line">See there, the city's soul</p><p class="line">That pulses on with irresistless roll</p><p class="line">To a future, mightier destiny!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And gleams it still in many a dingy hole</p><p class="line">Thro'out this sad, sepulchral place !</p><p class="line">It breathes in cellar like a mole ;</p><p class="line">It smiles with wistful face ;</p><p class="line">It walks the silent street;</p><p class="line">And you hear its accents in the wandering feet</p><p class="line">Of haggard women, trudging to the ground</p><p class="line">Where food is to be found !</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">One day that soul that wails in low lament</p><p class="line">In darkness, will arise--renewed and strong--</p><p class="line">Jubilant with reincarnate faith--a song</p><p class="line">Of triumph from its fiery lips sent</p><p class="line">Ringing to the astonished firmament--</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Music that will never die,</p><p class="line">A swelling, surging song of Liberty!</p><p class="line">Martyrdom will cease</p><p class="line">And Freedom come again with Peace;</p><p class="line">And jostling, hustling throngs,</p><p class="line">Singing o'er a hundred wrongs,</p><p class="line">Panting, laughing, crying,</p><p class="line">Weeping, shouting, sighing</p><p class="line">Will rush like rising sea</p><p class="line">Into the empty streets, bellowing Victory !</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">But still the wind runs around</p><p class="line">Like a whining hound</p><p class="line">Seeking its master,</p><p class="line">Faster and faster;</p><p class="line">And a heavy sound,</p><p class="line">A hollow tread comes after me--</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I never glance around,</p><p class="line">But, onward hurrying, flee</p><p class="line">From the haunting dread</p><p class="line">Of the Unknown Tread ;</p><p class="line">And I hold my breath :</p><p class="line">Is it Death?</p></div></body></html> · Great War