II

“Stand to!” The warning word was hardly said, And had not moved a man, when round and round Forthwith the steaming kettles came to ground, And the men swarmed to dip their hasty bread, A soldier’s morning bite. Still overhead Murder flew hurtling, shell by shell, and found Earth in some rearward purlieu, quenched in sound. Breakfast began, but not a man was fed Ere the growled “Fall in” menacingly proved The dog’s bone kinsman to a soldier’s meal. We mustered, lowering, hungry. The ranks grew; And it was seen the world again had moved, As at the impulse of a groaning wheel, Unto some issue, from that first “Stand to!”