{"product_id":"2940013417809","title":"RHYMES OF A RED CROSS MAN","description":"Contents\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e          Foreword\u003cbr\u003e          The Call\u003cbr\u003e          The Fool\u003cbr\u003e          The Volunteer\u003cbr\u003e          The Convalescent\u003cbr\u003e          The Man from Athabaska\u003cbr\u003e          The Red Retreat\u003cbr\u003e          The Haggis of Private McPhee\u003cbr\u003e          The Lark\u003cbr\u003e          The Odyssey of 'Erbert 'Iggins\u003cbr\u003e          A Song of Winter Weather\u003cbr\u003e          Tipperary Days\u003cbr\u003e          Fleurette\u003cbr\u003e          Funk\u003cbr\u003e          Our Hero\u003cbr\u003e          My Mate\u003cbr\u003e          Milking Time\u003cbr\u003e          Young Fellow My Lad\u003cbr\u003e          A Song of the Sandbags\u003cbr\u003e          On the Wire\u003cbr\u003e          Bill's Grave\u003cbr\u003e          Jean Desprez\u003cbr\u003e          Going Home\u003cbr\u003e          Cocotte\u003cbr\u003e          My Bay'nit\u003cbr\u003e          Carry On!\u003cbr\u003e          Over the Parapet\u003cbr\u003e          The Ballad of Soulful Sam\u003cbr\u003e          Only a Boche\u003cbr\u003e          Pilgrims\u003cbr\u003e          My Prisoner\u003cbr\u003e          Tri-colour\u003cbr\u003e          A Pot of Tea\u003cbr\u003e          The Revelation\u003cbr\u003e          Grand-père\u003cbr\u003e          Son\u003cbr\u003e          The Black Dudeen\u003cbr\u003e          The Little Piou-piou\u003cbr\u003e          Bill the Bomber\u003cbr\u003e          The Whistle of Sandy McGraw\u003cbr\u003e          The Stretcher-Bearer\u003cbr\u003e          Wounded\u003cbr\u003e          Faith\u003cbr\u003e          The Coward\u003cbr\u003e          Missis Moriarty's Boy\u003cbr\u003e          My Foe\u003cbr\u003e          My Job\u003cbr\u003e          The Song of the Pacifist\u003cbr\u003e          The Twins\u003cbr\u003e          The Song of the Soldier-born\u003cbr\u003e          Afternoon Tea\u003cbr\u003e          The Mourners\u003cbr\u003e          L'Envoi\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eForeword\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     I've tinkered at my bits of rhymes\u003cbr\u003e     In weary, woeful, waiting times;\u003cbr\u003e     In doleful hours of battle-din,\u003cbr\u003e     Ere yet they brought the wounded in;\u003cbr\u003e     Through vigils of the fateful night,\u003cbr\u003e     In lousy barns by candle-light;\u003cbr\u003e     In dug-outs, sagging and aflood,\u003cbr\u003e     On stretchers stiff and bleared with blood;\u003cbr\u003e     By ragged grove, by ruined road,\u003cbr\u003e     By hearths accurst where Love abode;\u003cbr\u003e     By broken altars, blackened shrines\u003cbr\u003e     I've tinkered at my bits of rhymes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     I've solaced me with scraps of song\u003cbr\u003e     The desolated ways along:\u003cbr\u003e     Through sickly fields all shrapnel-sown,\u003cbr\u003e     And meadows reaped by death alone;\u003cbr\u003e     By blazing cross and splintered spire,\u003cbr\u003e     By headless Virgin in the mire;\u003cbr\u003e     By gardens gashed amid their bloom,\u003cbr\u003e     By gutted grave, by shattered tomb;\u003cbr\u003e     Beside the dying and the dead,\u003cbr\u003e     Where rocket green and rocket red,\u003cbr\u003e     In trembling pools of poising light,\u003cbr\u003e     With flowers of flame festoon the night.\u003cbr\u003e     Ah me! by what dark ways of wrong\u003cbr\u003e     I've cheered my heart with scraps of song.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     So here's my sheaf of war-won verse,\u003cbr\u003e     And some is bad, and some is worse.\u003cbr\u003e     And if at times I curse a bit,\u003cbr\u003e     You needn't read that part of it;\u003cbr\u003e     For through it all like horror runs\u003cbr\u003e     The red resentment of the guns.\u003cbr\u003e     And you yourself would mutter when\u003cbr\u003e     You took the things that once were men,\u003cbr\u003e     And sped them through that zone of hate\u003cbr\u003e     To where the dripping surgeons wait;\u003cbr\u003e     And wonder too if in God's sight\u003cbr\u003e     War ever, ever can be right.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Yet may it not be, crime and war\u003cbr\u003e     But effort misdirected are?\u003cbr\u003e     And if there's good in war and crime,\u003cbr\u003e     There may be in my bits of rhyme,\u003cbr\u003e     My songs from out the slaughter mill:\u003cbr\u003e     So take or leave them as you will.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe Call\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e (France, August first, 1914)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Far and near, high and clear,\u003cbr\u003e     Hark to the call of War!\u003cbr\u003e Over the gorse and the golden dells,\u003cbr\u003e Ringing and swinging of clamorous bells,\u003cbr\u003e Praying and saying of wild farewells:\u003cbr\u003e     War!  War!  War!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     High and low, all must go:\u003cbr\u003e     Hark to the shout of War!\u003cbr\u003e Leave to the women the harvest yield;\u003cbr\u003e Gird ye, men, for the sinister field;\u003cbr\u003e A sabre instead of a scythe to wield:\u003cbr\u003e     War!  Red War!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Rich and poor, lord and boor,\u003cbr\u003e     Hark to the blast of War!\u003cbr\u003e Tinker and tailor and millionaire,\u003cbr\u003e Actor in triumph and priest in prayer,\u003cbr\u003e Comrades now in the hell out there,\u003cbr\u003e     Sweep to the fire of War!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Prince and page, sot and sage,\u003cbr\u003e     Hark to the roar of War!\u003cbr\u003e Poet, professor and circus clown,\u003cbr\u003e Chimney-sweeper and fop o' the town,\u003cbr\u003e Into the pot and be melted down:\u003cbr\u003e     Into the pot of War!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Women all, hear the call,\u003cbr\u003e     The pitiless call of War!\u003cbr\u003e Look your last on your dearest ones,\u003cbr\u003e Brothers and husbands, fathers, sons:\u003cbr\u003e Swift they go to the ravenous guns,\u003cbr\u003e     The gluttonous guns of War.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e     Everywhere thrill the air\u003cbr\u003e     The maniac bells of War.\u003cbr\u003e There will be little of sleeping to-night;\u003cbr\u003e There will be wailing and weeping to-night;","brand":"SAP","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47173737054448,"sku":"2940013417809","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013417809_p0.jpg?v=1763581176","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013417809","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}