The Washington herald., 1917-12-24

See how he stands there, planted IN
the mud like some old battered
image Of . faith forgotten By Its
God.
Look at his grizxied head damned up
into that round. close hat Of iron.
See how he lunches up his shoulders;
How his spine IL bent under his
clumsy coat like the hard bending
Of q taut strung bow:
And how he leans. gripping with
grimy lists the muzzle OF his gun
that digs It's butt end down into
the mud between the solid columns
of his legs.
Look close-come close. pale ghosts,
Come back out of'the dim unfinished
past,
Crowd up across the edges Of the
earth
Where the horizon ike q red-hot wirs
writhes. smoking, underneath tire
mendous blows.
Come up. come up across the quakint
ground that gapes In sudden hciei
beneath your feet
Come fearlessly across the twisting
field where bones Of men stick
through the tortured mud.
Il SnOtlS nave no ueeu LcdLs
Look close at this man-Look!
He waits for death
| He knows
He watches II approach
He hears II coming
He can feel It underneath his feet
Death bearing down on him from
every side.
Al :.
sky to shrieking Pieces.
Death that suddenly explodes out OF
the dreadful bowels of the earth.
He hears 1t screaming through the
frantic air.
He hears it bUrrowing underneath the
ground,
He feels the impact Of It on his back
his chest, his legs. his belly. and
his arms,
He does not move.
In all the landscape there is Just one
thing that does not move.
The figure OF the man.
The sky long since has fallen from #,
dome.
Terror let loose like a gigantic wind
has torn it from the ceiling OF I'll,
And it is Tapping down in frantic
shreds.
The earth. ages ago. leaped screaming
up; out Of the fastness Of fits an.
cient laws,
There is no center now to hold Il
down;
It rolls and writhes. a shifting. tor
tured thing. a floating mass o.
adrift
And in between the Tapping. suffering
remnants Of the sky and the con
yulsions Of the naddened earth
The man stands solid.
Something holds him there.
What holds him, timid ghosts!
What do you say. you shudderinf
spirits dragged from secure vaults
You who once died In kindly quie
rooms,
You who were companioned TO thu
end by friends.
And closed your eyes In languor on ,
! world
That you had fashioned for you
! peaceful selves?
Some Of you scorned this man.
He was for you the ordinary man.
You thought him pitiable: contemp
tible or worse;
You gave him idols. temples. formula!
of conduct, prisons. laws;
Some OF you pitied him. and wept ovel
his sins.
Some were Mortified at what you called
his passions. lust OF women. food
drink, laughter. all such simpI,
things.
And some of you were afraid:
Wanted to- beat him down. break hi.
spirit,
Muzzle his ideas. and bind with hand:
OF hopelessness his energy.
None of you trusted him
No. Not a single one OF you trusted
him.
But look-look at the stiffness Of tina
Made up of little fragile bones snc
flesh.
Tissued Of quivering muscles. fne a
Exquisite nerve endings and scarle
blood
That travels smoothly through tn,
tender veins:
One blow-one moment more-and thai
mans face will be a mass OF mat,
ter. horrid slime-and little britt,
bits
He knows
He waits
His face remains quite still.
And underneath the bullet-snatterec
helmet on his head his steady eye.
look out.
What is il that looks out.
What is there mirrored there in those
deep. bloodshot eyes!
Terror? MOI
! Despair? Perhaps.
But what else?
All, poor ghosts-poor, blind, un.
seeing ghosts
1t is his self you see. His sell
that does remember what h,
loved and what he wanted
and what he never had-Hi,
self that can regret that car
reproach his own self now
His self that gave its self, lei
loose its hold of all but Just it,
self
is that then nothing, just his naked