This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1918 edition. Excerpt: ...German trenches near--Our own shells hurtle wailing by, But the noise cannot deaden the dreadful cry Of a soul torn out of the shattered form; (While those who are still survivors try Like a ship--any port in a storm) To hide in the holes the shells have made CIVILIZATION 87 And blindly, grimly, wait ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1918 edition. Excerpt: ...German trenches near--Our own shells hurtle wailing by, But the noise cannot deaden the dreadful cry Of a soul torn out of the shattered form; (While those who are still survivors try Like a ship--any port in a storm) To hide in the holes the shells have made CIVILIZATION 87 And blindly, grimly, wait Till the storm of shot and shell abate, And it's "Bayonets up!" and blade to blade, We can strike for ourselves, and the brave dead boys, Who, hiding in holes, have met their fate Like rats in a trap; But we perhaps shall have better hap, For already there is less of the awful noise, We can hear the machine guns stuttering death. They're coming at last! And we draw our breath Through hard-clenched teeth, as our bullets fly Toward the serried ranks that are drawing nigh; They stagger and fall, but still press on To the goal they think they have nearly won. And we wait and wait till they're almost here, Then it's "Up, lads! Up! Let 'em have the steel!" With a wild, hoarse yell that is half a cheer, We are out and their torn ranks backwards reel. Then back to the trench to bury and build, And count our wounded and count our killed; But out in the front there are many who lie, Their dead eyes turned to the quiet sky--We have given our own lads company. Lieut. Eric Fitzwater Wilkinson, M.C. (Killed in action, 1917) "ATTACK!" You are standing watch in hand, All waiting the command, While your guns have got their trenches fairly set. When they lengthen up the range, You feel a trifle strange As you clamber up the sand-bag parapet. It's a case of do or die--Still, you rather wonder why Your mate drops down beside you with a screech; But you're very soon aware, When a bullet parts your hair, That HE'S not the only pebble on the beach. It's each man...
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Add this copy of From the Front to cart. $22.00, very good condition, Sold by BookHouse On-Line rated 5.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Minneapolis, MN, UNITED STATES, published 1918 by Appleton.
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Seller's Description:
Very Good. New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1919. A collection of World War 1 poetry. Green boards with gilt lettering and design. A nice, tight and bright copy. Binding is sturdy and square. Scarce. Ships from Dinkytown in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
