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lirik lagu david moore - spring offensive

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halted against the shade of a last hill
they fed, and, lying easy, were at ease
and, finding comfortable chests and knees
carelessly slept
but many there stood still
to face the stark, blank sky beyond the ridge
knowing their feet had come to the end of the world
marvelling they stood, and watched the long grass swirled
by the may breeze, murmurous with wasp and midge
for though the summer oozed into their veins
like the injected drug for their bones’ pains
sharp on their souls hung the imminent line of grass
fearfully flashed the sky’s mysterious glass

hour after hour they ponder the warm field—
and the far valley behind, where the b~ttercups
had blessed with gold their slow boots coming up
where even the little brambles would not yield
but clutched and clung to them like sorrowing hands;
they breathe like trees unstirred
till like a cold gust thrilled the little word
at which each body and its soul begird
and tighten them for battle. no alarms
of bugles, no high flags, no clamorous haste—
only a lift and flare of eyes that faced
the sun, like a friend with whom their love is done
o larger shone that smile against the sun,—
mightier than his whose bounty these have spurned
so, soon they topped the hill, and raced together
over an open stretch of herb and heather
exposed. and instantly the whole sky burned
with fury against them; and soft sudden cups
opened in thousands for their blood; and the green slopes
chasmed and steepened sheer to infinite sp~ce

of them who running on that last high place
leapt to swift unseen bullets, or went up
on the hot blast and fury of h~ll’s upsurge
or plunged and fell away past this world’s verge
some say god caught them even before they fell
but what say such as from existence’ brink
ventured but drave too swift to sink
the few who rushed in the body to enter h~ll
and there out~fiending all its fiends and flames
with superhuman inhumanities
long~famous glories, immemorial shames—
and crawling slowly back, have by degrees
regained cool peaceful air in wonder—
why speak they not of comrades that went under?


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