Cicely Fox Smith

(1 February 1882 – 8 April 1954 / Lymm, Cheshire)

The Eve Of Battle - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

We're a score of men together
To drink to the days of yore,
To the little joys and sorrows
That were our lives before.
We're a nobler lot to live for;
We're a prouder death to dare:
Yet once, for we fight to-morrow,
A glass to the days that were!

To the things that we loved so dearly
In the careless days gone by;
To the beat of hoofs at the hurdles,
To the sound of the hounds in cry.
To the feast and the game and the frolic,
We were but children then, -
God grant, now the game's in earnest,
We play our parts like men!

Good-bye to the careless revel,
Farewell to the fruitless past:
In the roar of the fight to-morrow
There'll be work for men at last.
Here's a health to the fight's survivors,
And here's to the men who fall!
To the death that is sweet and goodly,
To the sword on the soldier's pall!

We're a score of men together,
And one more glass we'll drain:
Hands round ere our ranks be thinner;
There'll be gaps ere we meet again.
Here's luck in the fight to-morrow:
Here's a chance of fair renown:
Here's a gallant race and a stirring pace,
Ere the Last Fence brings you down!


Comments about The Eve Of Battle by Cicely Fox Smith

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010



[Report Error]