Classic Poem

( Scene — A Blasted H EATH .)

One-Legged Soldier.

By all the gods! there's a fire burning
And three old hags about it churning;
Shall I starve here while they frisk it?
Since broth is what I want, — I'll risk it.

The Witches.

Storm, drums, and pound, knuckles! —
Hissing joy, our furnace chuckles!
Bright cities be its embers
While its heart's heart dismembers
Merry flames like Moscow steeples
For the warming of the peoples!

First Witch.

Heap device, fling in spice —
Lips bitten from enemies —

Second Witch.

A nun's hood and corpse-lice
Of crow-like men, gallow'd on wire —

First Witch.

Here's a sacker's jet for fire —

Second Witch.

Dews from hedges, drip from caves
Where the ravished mother raves —

First Witch.

Fangs that sidle past the drowned —

Second Witch.

A head in a cottage found —
Both.

Lap in sheets of cannon-sound
Till all madnesses astound!

First Witch.

With the last sighs of babies,
Seethe, cauldron, seethe, seethe!

First and Second Witches.

Do the rite, the rite of Honour
That there be no slur upon her!
We must catch un'wares the gabies,
Cauldron, let thy wisdom breathe!
Let there be no idle blabber
Seeing that venom is our foison
Let the guest creep in the stabber
Like your heavy vapour yellow
Treachery's the golden fellow.
And your only brew is poison.

One-Legged Soldier.

H'm! they do look rather grisly —
Damme, but this isn't Bisley!

Second Witch.

Scatter in, to see them caper,
Bloody little scraps of paper —

First Witch.

Leaf of tree that's bullet-stript,
Shard of shell that crack'd a crypt —

Second Witch.

Dust of saint that slept in grace,
Blasted from his resting-place —

First Witch.

Here's a muddy boot that's slimed
From a field with glory limed —

One-Legged Soldier.

Excuse me, but I know that boot!
It was cut off — with my right foot. . . .

First Witch.

Who is this interloping rat?

Second Witch.

No doubt some social democrat.

One-Legged Soldier.

Ladies, I'm sorry to unnerve you...
Can a cripple do a job to serve you?

First Witch.

You ought, since you're a corporal, know
That though I dance incognito
And must perform in mufti, still I am
Quite unmistakable as William !

One-Legged Soldier.

Ah!

First Witch.

It's a rite and no obscene feast
But to reward your loyal soul
I'll play in yet another role;
You'll see — if you give over trembling —
Me crowned to-morrow in the Kremlin!

One-Legged Soldier.

Thanks! And your partner in this beanfeast?

Second Witch.

I'm Francis Joseph!

One-Legged Soldier.

One sees seldom
A more unconscionable beldam.
But who's your third friend, mum and bony?

First Witch.

What? Don't you know our ancient crony?

One-Legged Soldier.

No, I can't see him through the smoke. . . .

Second Witch.

Not recognise? ... It's past a joke!

First Witch.

Not recognise him? Highty-tighty!
That, my poor lad, is God Almighty

Both.

When the hurly-burly's done,
When the battle's lost and won,
In thunder, lightning, or in rain,
When shall we three meet again?