Geoffrey Anketell Studdert Kennedy Poems

They gave me this name like their nature,
Compacted of laughter and tears,
A sweet that was born of the bitter,
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There was rapture of spring in the morning
When we told our love in the wood,
For you were the spring in my heart, dear lad.
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Parson says I'm to make 'im a cross
To set up over his grave,
'E's buried there by the Moated Grange,
And I 'ad a damn close shave,
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Well, I've done my bit o' scrappin',
And I've done in quite a lot;
Nicked 'em neatly wiv my bayonet,
So I needn't waste a shot.
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My brethren, the ways of God
No man can understand,
We can but wait in awe and watch
The wonders of His hand.
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Easy does it — bit o' trench 'ere,
Mind that blinkin' bit o' wire,
There's a shell 'ole on your left there,
Lift 'im up a little 'igher.
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There's a soul in the Eternal,
Standing stiff before the King.
There's a little English maiden
Sorrowing.
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I wouldn't mind if I only knowed
The spot where they'd laid my lad;
If I could see where they'd buried 'im,
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Still I see them coming, coming,
In their ragged broken line,
Walking wounded in the sunlight,
Clothed in majesty divine.
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There's a Jerry over there, Sarge !
Can't you see 'is big square 'ead ?
If 'e bobs it up again there,
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