The Hun will have to do a lot more shelling
before he puts the lamp of kindness out. From the polluted trenches of
Vimy the poppies spring up, blazoning abroad in vivid scarlet the
heroism of our lads' willing sacrifice. All this April, high above
the shouting of our guns, the larks sang joyously. The scarlet of the
poppies, the song of the larks, the lamp shining on the altar are only
external signs of the unconquerable, happy religion which lies hidden
in the hearts of our men. Their religion is the religion of heroism,
which they have learnt in the glory of the trenches.
There was a line from William Morris's _Earthly Paradise_ which used
to haunt me, especially in the early days when I was first
experiencing what war really meant. Since returning for a brief space
to where books are accessible, I have looked up the quotation. It
reads as follows:--
"Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,
I cannot ease the burden of your fears
Or make quick-coming death a little thing."
It is the last line that makes me smile rather quietly, "Or make
quick-coming death a little thing." I smile because the souls who wear
khaki have learnt to do just that. Morris goes on to say that all he
can do to make people happy is to tell them deathless stories about
heroes who have passed into the world of the imagination, and, because
of that, are immune from death. He calls himself "the idle singer of
an empty day." How typical he is of the days before the war when
people had only pin-pricks to endure, and, consequently, didn't exert
themselves to be brave! A big sacrifice, which bankrupts one's life,
is always more bearable than the little inevitable annoyances of
sickness, disappointment and dying in a bed.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93