Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HERE IS MUSIC: FIRE GUARD AREA OFFICER: 2, by AUSTIN PHILIPS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HERE IS MUSIC: FIRE GUARD AREA OFFICER: 2, by                    
First Line: For full three years
Last Line: Obey blest beckonings till I draw last hungry breath.
Subject(s): Courage; Fights; Firefighters; Memory; War; Valor; Bravery


FOR full three years,
Dear friend, I have not known
One single hour
Of sweet, deep, intimate sleep but e'er have lain
Waiting the coming Cain,
With anxious ears
Attun'd to hear
Ill-omen'd, drear
And odious outpour
Of Banshee moan,
Of harsh, insistent wail,
Borne on soft air, harsh gale,
Shriek of sad Siren, calling me to leap
Forth from my couch and go,
A-creep,
'Neath wall and portico,
'Mid boom of gun, 'mid shrapnel's hateful hail,
Up half-a-mile of Hell
To tell
My coming, then begin
My rounds, until the din
Lessen, die down, the fell
Danger decline ... the long up-gazing with strain'd eyes
At smiling, callous moon, cold stars or shrouded skies.

For three full years
I have served, found fearful fief
In hateful sight
Of human woe, of silent suffering
Or loud, heart-issuing
Lament, found fears
Hideously true,
Heard Rachel's rue
Divide the night
As, wild with grief
For offspring ruthless swept
Away, she ranged, raved, wept. ...
Seen father seek for son in nameless pain
Or son for father, both
In vain
Yet staunchly, nobly loth
To recognise harsh truth—persistent steep'd
In fierce and futile hope—
Woe's cup
Pushed from brave lips by long
And gallant effort, strong,
Determined aim to dupe
Despair ... until force fail, reaction conquer, come,
Strength ebb, and full assurance find them faint and dumb.

For three full years—
Snippets of sleep thus mine!—
I toiled and moiled
Unceasing ... now, when at long last the sum
And end seemed nigh, new bomb
Brings further tears,
Reaps fresh foison,
With deadly drone
Speeds on in shine
And shade, accoiled
And eager, while its twin
In crime, with hideous din
Rockets and wracks, destroys by night, by day,
(Hate's evil-omen'd bird!)
Wing'd way
Takes through thin air, be-spurr'd
By envy, born of malice, sired by sin,
So that, still starv'd of sleep,
I leap,
(Almost automaton!)
Forth from my couch, fling on
Garments again, go reap
Sadness once more, set out on service, fearful fief
Find as of old, stark surfeit ... glut me with fresh grief.

That vast reserve
Of force and energy,
Built and stored up
Since boyhood's hour by one who found the font
Of strength in use and wont
Of sleep, who verve
And wit at prime
(Nay, long ere dawning-time!)
Drew as from cup
In affluency,
Each morn refreshed, renewed
Magician-wise, who subdued
Hours—harbingers and heralds of high noon—
To his proud purpose, made
Blest, boon
Sunshine alike and shade. ...
That vast reserve, I say, that parenthood
Of all I cared for, shrunk
And sunk
To nothing seems ... since Fear
Ful-fills me; in mine ear
Whispers, fell hag, foul punk,
That I am spent and finished as a fighting man
Unless I find, and touch, for sleep some talisman.

Some talisman!
Thrice happy, helpful thought
Which glads my heart
And brings me courage, wakes old memories
Of how I once won ease
What time, long span,
'Twas mine to dwell
In high tourelle,
Lone and apart,
And, strenuous, wrought
In royal Brittany
At books about to be. ...
Of how, a long work ponder'd, plann'd, despatched,
Reaction came ... and so
I watched
With anxious eyes, bent brow,
Each time the postman called—lest I should see
My wretched, would-be tome
Come home,
Unwanted and accurst. ...
To break, bar, burst
Such quintessential sum
Of neurasthenic foolishness, quick anodyne
I sought and found ... alike o'er-mastering and benign.

If still a-foot
When the last bugle blows
Its noble news,
I will go back to Brittany, there dwell
Once more in my tourelle,
Seek ancient loot,
And eager hie
Me forth, to buy
Red wine, whose use
Kills care and throws
Oblivion's veil
O'er grief, brings weal. ...
It shall be August month, hot afternoon,
I'll get me crusted bread, ripe camembert;
In boon
Seclusion feast, repair,
Bacchic, to bed; find dreamless slumber seal
My grateful eyelids, take
Fill, slake
Her needs till midnight hour
Exhaust that potion's pow'r,
Find me fresh man, most gloriously awake,
Know me clear-brained as never, bid me in haste go heat
My bedside coffee, muse, plan, ponder, drink and eat.

Ten days—no more—
I will do this, re-try
Experience
Tested long since, found true and trusty friend,
Then take farewell, make end
As once afore. ...
Assuaged all need,
(Tenour and thread
Regained, and sense
Of Rest) will hie
Me home, in haste to hurl
Me into fresh tasks, unfurl
Again stout sails to bear Life's venturous bark
Of true, original course,
The stark
War-years forgot, (fresh force
Nurtured natheless within them, like some pearl
Long time foredoomed in shell
To dwell. ...)
Stand still a seeker, steer
Steadfast; persist, not veer
One hand's breadth; lured and limed by ancient spell,
Sweet lust for knowledge; speeding down towards dusty death,
Obey blest beckonings till I draw last hungry breath.





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