The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems

By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems" by Arthur Conan Doyle. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Dec 6, 2019
• ISBN: 4064066236786

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur Conan Doyle was a British writer and physician. He is the creator of the Sherlock Holmes character, writing his debut appearance in A Study in Scarlet. Doyle wrote notable books in the fantasy and science fiction genres, as well as plays, romances, poetry, non-fiction, and historical novels.

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Arthur Conan Doyle

The Guards Came Through, and Other Poems

Published by Good Press, 2019

[e-mail]

EAN 4064066236786

Table of Contents

PREFACE

THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH

VICTRIX

THOSE OTHERS

HAIG IS MOVING

THE GUNS IN SUSSEX

YPRES

GROUSING

THE VOLUNTEER

THE NIGHT PATROL

THE WRECK ON LOCH McGARRY

THE BIGOT

THE ATHABASCA TRAIL

RAGTIME!

CHRISTMAS IN WARTIME

1916

1917 THE LAST LAP

1918

LINDISFAIRE

A PARABLE

FATE

PREFACE

Table of Contents

I must

apologize for the size of this booklet, which can only be justified on the grounds that there is some demand for the contents as recitations. I hope presently to combine whatever is worth preserving in my three volumes of verse, so as to make a single collection.

Arthur Conan Doyle.

THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH

Table of Contents

Men

of the Twenty-first,

Up by the Chalk Pit Wood,

Weak from our wounds and our thirst,

Wanting our sleep and our food

After a day and a night.

God! shall I ever forget?

Beaten and broke in the fight,

But sticking it, sticking it yet,

Trying to hold the line,

Fainting and spent and done;

Always the thud and the whine,

Always the yell of the Hun.

Northumberland, Lancaster, York,

Durham and Somerset,

Fighting alone, worn to the bone,

But sticking it, sticking it yet.

Never a message of hope,

Never a word of cheer,

Fronting Hill 70's shell-swept slope,

With the dull, dead plain in our rear;

Always the shriek of the shell,

Always the roar of the burst,

Always the tortures of Hell,

As waiting and wincing we cursed

Our luck, the guns, and the Boche.

When our Corporal shouted Stand to!

And I hear some one cry, Clear the front for the Guards!—

And the Guards