Bit of Ivory

Here’s another war poem– a bit more satirical, this time:
All the Hills and Vales Along
by Charles Sorley (1895-1915)
ALL the hills and vales along Earth is bursting into song, And the
singers are the chaps Who are going to die perhaps.   O sing,
marching men,   Till the valleys ring again.   Give
your gladness to earth’s keeping,   So be glad, when you are
sleeping. Cast away regret and rue, Think what you are marching to.
Little live, great pass. Jesus Christ and Barabbas Were found the same
day. This died, that went his way.   So sing with joyful
breath.
  For why, you are going to death.   Teeming earth
will surely store   All the gladness that you pour. Earth
that never doubts nor fears, Earth that knows of death, not tears,
Earth that bore with joyful ease Hemlock for Socrates, Earth that
blossomed and was glad ’Neath the cross that Christ had, Shall rejoice
and blossom too
When the bullet reaches you.    Wherefore, men marching
  On the road to death, sing!   Pour your gladness
on earth’s head,   So be merry, so be dead. From the hills
and valleys earth Shouts back the sound of mirth, Tramp of feet and
lilt of song Ringing all the road along. All the music of their going,
Ringing, swinging, glad song-throwing, Earth will echo still, when foot
Lies numb and voice mute.   On, marching men, on
  To the gates of death with song.   Sow your
gladness for earth’s reaping,   So you may be glad, though
sleeping.   Strew your gladness on earth’s bed,
  So be merry, so be dead.