Ivor Gurney, 'Maisemore'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Maisemore

O when we swung through Maisemore,
The Maisemore people cheered,
And women ran from farmyards,
And men from ricks, afeared

To lose the sight of soldiers
Who would, 'fore Christmas Day,
Blow Kaiser William's Army
Like mist of breath away !

The war it was but young then !
And we were young, unknowing
The path we were to tread,
The way the path was going.

And not a man of all of us,
Marching across the bridge,
Had thought how Home would linger
In our hearts, as Maisemore Ridge.

When the darkness downward hovers
Making trees like German shadows,
How our souls fly homing, homing
Times and times to Maisemore meadows,

By Aubers Ridge that Maisemore men
Have died in vain to hold. . . .
The burning thought but once desires
Maisemore in morning gold !

O when we marched through Maisemore
Past many a creaking cart,
We little thought we had in us
Love so hot at heart.

By Ivor Gurney

[Maisemore is a small village just outside Gloucester, England, and the bridge is the bridge over the River Severn into Gloucester.]

Battle of Aubers Ridge, May 9, 1915