Thomas Hardy (1840–1928). Wessex Poems and Other Verses. 1898.
19. Valenciennes
W
And from our mortars tons of iron hummed
Ath’art the ditch, the month we bombed
The Town o’ Valencieën.
(The Duke o’ Yark our then Commander beën)
The German Legion, Guards, and we
Laid siege to Valencieën.
That French and English spilled each other’s gore;
—God knows what year will end the roar
Begun at Valencieën!
A-topperèn the French for disagreën;
However, that’s not my affair—
We were at Valencieën.
Never knew raw recruit or veteràn:
Stone-deaf therence went many a man
Who served at Valencieën.
A hundred thousand balls and bombs were fleën;
And harmless townsfolk fell to die
Each hour at Valencieën!
A shell was slent to shards anighst my ears:
—’Twas night the end of hopes and fears
For me at Valencieën!
And shut my gapèn skull, and washed en cleän,
And jined en wi’ a zilver clamp
Thik night at Valencieën.
But never more on earth while rose is red
Will drum rouse Corpel!” Doctor said
O’ me at Valencieën.
Can reach me now, or any liveèn beën;
And little have I power to know
Since then at Valencieën!
O’ bees; and don’t know when the cuckoo comes;
But night and day I hear the bombs
We threw at Valencieën.…
There be some volk whose judgment o’ en is meän;
But this I say—’a was not far
From great at Valencieën.
My wownds come back, as though new wownds I’d had;
But yet—at times I’m sort o’ glad
I fout at Valencieën.
Is now the on’y Town I care to be in.…
Good Lord, if Nick should bomb the walls
As we did Valencieën!