  (Somme, September, 1916) By Joseph Lee, Lieut. Dedicated to Major Angus MacGillivray. The cry is in my ear, The sight is in my eye, This is the dawning of the day That shall see me die: What is the piper playing That battles in my blood?— Winds in it, Waves in it, Waters at the flood; Sadness in it, Madness in it, Weeping mists and rain— What is the piper playing That beats within my brain? Sobbing and throbbing Like a soul's unrest; I drink his madd'ning music in As milk at my mother's breast: Flame in it, Fame in it, Love and all desire; The clean hills, The clear rills, The smouldering peat fire; Glances sweet, Dancing feet, Beating on the floor; Maidens fair, Comrades rare I shall meet no more. The cry is in my ear, The sight is in my eye, This is the morning of the day That shall see me die: What is the piper playing That surges in my blood? The soft breeze In pine trees, The hawthorn i' the bud; The lone tarn, The golden barn, Fields of waving grain— What is the piper playing That beats within my brain? Red war screams from his reeds And in the thrumming drones There lurks the lapping of men's blood, And sobs, and dying groans: Night in it, Fight in it, Wraiths of stricken men, Ghosts of ancient clansmen Sweeping down the glen; Life in it, Strife in it, Whisp'rings—it is well, If you bear a foeman down Right to reddest hell! What is the piper playing? For now I may not hear ... The glamour comes across my soul, And the cry is in my ear. |
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