Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume VIII. National Spirit. 1904. | | | | III. War | | The Three Scars | | George Walter Thornbury (1828–1876) |
| | | THIS I got on the day that Goring | |
| Fought through York, like a wild beast roaring— | |
| The roofs were black, and the streets were full, | |
| The doors built up with packs of wool; | |
| But our pikes made way through a storm of shot, | 5 |
| Barrel to barrel till locks grew hot; | |
| Frere fell dead, and Lucas was gone, | |
| But the drum still beat and the flag went on. | |
| |
| This I caught from a swinging sabre, | |
| All I had from a long night’s labor; | 10 |
| When Chester 1 flamed, and the streets were red, | |
| In splashing shower fell the molten lead, | |
| The fire sprang up, and the old roof split, | |
| The fire-ball burst in the middle of it; | |
| With a clash and a clang the troopers they ran, | 15 |
| For the siege was over ere well began. | |
| |
| This I got from a pistol butt | |
| (Lucky my head ’s not a hazel nut); | |
| The horse they raced, and scudded and swore; | |
| There were Leicestershire gentlemen, seventy score; | 20 |
| Up came the “Lobsters,” covered with steel— | |
| Down we went with a stagger and reel; | |
| Smash at the flag, I tore it to rag, | |
| And carried it off in my foraging bag. | |
| | | Note 1. Siege of Chester, in the civil war, 1645. [back] | | |
|
|
|
