Robert Nichols
Not a sign of life we rouse
In any square close-shuttered house
That flanks the road we amble down
Toward far trenches through the town.
The dark, snow-slushy, empty street….
Tingle of frost in brow and feet….
Horse-breath goes dimly up like smoke.
No sound but the smacking stroke
Of a sergeant flings each arm
Out and across to keep him warm,
And the sudden splashing crack
Of ice-pools broken by our track.
More dark houses, yet no sign
Of life…. An axle’s creak and whine….
The splash of hooves, the strain of trace….
Clatter: we cross the market place.
Deep quiet again, and on we lurch
Under the shadow of a church:
Its tower ascends, fog-wreathed and grim;
Within its aisles a light burns dim….
When, marvellous! from overhead,
Like abrupt speech of one deemed dead,
Speech-moved by some Superior Will,
A bell tolls thrice and then is still.
And suddenly I know that now
The priest within, with shining brow,
Lifts high the small round of the Host.
The server’s tingling bell is lost
In clash of the greater overhead.
Peace like a wave descends, is spread,
While watch the peasants’ reverent eyes….
The bell’s boom trembles, hangs, and dies.
O people who bow down to see
The Miracle of Calvary,
The bitter and the glorious,
Bow down, bow down and pray for us.
Once more our anguished way we take
Toward our Golgotha, to make
For all our lovers sacrifice.
Again the troubled bell tolls thrice.
And slowly, slowly, lifted up
Dazzles the overflowing cup.
O worshipping, fond multitude,
Remember us too, and our blood.
Turn hearts to us as we go by,
Salute those about to die,
Plead for them, the deep bell toll:
Their sacrifice must soon be whole.
Entreat you for such hearts as break
With the premonitory ache
Of bodies, whose feet, hands, and side,
Must soon be torn, pierced, crucified.
Sue for them and all of us
Who the world over suffer thus,
Who have scarce time for prayer indeed,
Who only march and die and bleed.
The town is left, the road leads on,
Bluely glaring in the sun,
Toward where in the sunrise gate
Death, honour, and fierce battle wait.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This war poem uses vivid imagery and religious symbolism to underscore the soldiers’ experiences and the weight of their inevitable fate. It begins with a haunting description of a deserted town, marked by the “dark, snow-slushy, empty street” and the physical toll the cold takes on the men. There is no sign of life, just the mechanical sounds of the soldiers’ movements—frosty air, creaking axles, and the crack of ice. This desolation and isolation create an atmosphere of ominous stillness, as though time itself is frozen, and the soldiers are just passing through an empty, indifferent world.
The progression of the poem leads the soldiers toward their ultimate destination, the trenches, with the church acting as a pivotal moment. The description of the church bell tolling and the priest lifting the Host invokes a powerful sense of ritual and spirituality. The bell’s sound is likened to the voice of the divine, summoning the soldiers as they march on toward their own “Golgotha”—a reference to Christ’s crucifixion. This comparison highlights the soldiers’ roles as martyrs, willingly or not, on the path to their own suffering and death. The connection to religious imagery serves to elevate their sacrifice, making it feel both inevitable and sacrificial, just as Christ’s death was.
The invocation of the “worshipping, fond multitude” is a plea for the people at home to pray for those about to face death. There is a sharp contrast between the reverence of the town’s folk and the harsh reality faced by the soldiers. The act of marching toward “Death, honour, and fierce battle” becomes a grim procession toward an almost sacred end, with their sacrifices marked by a haunting sense of inevitability.
The poem conveys a deep and melancholic reflection on the soldier’s life in war: a life dominated by marching, dying, and bleeding, with little space for prayer or hope. This feeling is further emphasized by the lines “Who have scarce time for prayer indeed, / Who only march and die and bleed.” The soldiers’ duty and sacrifice overshadow any personal longing for peace or rest.
By the end of the poem, the soldiers’ march continues, as “the road leads on / Bluely glaring in the sun,” a stark reminder that the war, with all its pain and suffering, waits for no one. The soldiers may find solace in religion, in the prayers of those left behind, but their fate is sealed. The “sunrise gate” becomes a symbol of both an end and a beginning—death awaits them, but it is framed as part of a larger cycle of sacrifice, honour, and duty. The image of “Death, honour, and fierce battle” at the poem’s close forces the reader to reflect on the cost of war—not just in the lives lost, but in the weight of the sacrifices that each soldier must bear, even as they march toward it willingly or unwillingly.
This poem resonates with the quiet desperation of soldiers, haunted by the recognition of their duty and the inevitability of their deaths, while also seeking some form of redemption, even if it is just in the eyes of those they leave behind. The religious references, stark imagery, and somber tone create a powerful commentary on the human cost of war. It leaves the reader with a sense of the soldiers’ silent plea for remembrance and prayers, as they face a world that has forgotten them beyond their sacrifices.