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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539868" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Langemarck At Ypres</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the ballad of Langemarck, <br>A story of glory and might; <br>Of the vast Hun horde, and Canada’s part <br>In the great grim fight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was April fair on the Flanders Fields, <br>But the dreadest April then <br>That ever the years, in their fateful flight, <br>Had brought to this world of men. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">North and east, a monster wall, <br>The mighty Hun ranks lay, <br>With fort on fort, and iron-ringed trench, <br>Menacing, grim and gray. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And south and west, like a serpent of fire, <br>Serried the British lines, <br>And in between, the dying and dead, <br>And the stench of blood, and the trampled mud, <br>On the fair, sweet Belgian vines. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And far to the eastward, harnessed and taut, <br>Like a scimitar, shining and keen, <br>Gleaming out of that ominous gloom, <br>Old France’s hosts were seen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When out of the grim Hun lines one night, <br>There rolled a sinister smoke;— <br>A strange, weird cloud, like a pale, green shroud, <br>And death lurked in its cloak. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a fiend-like wind it curled along <br>Over the brave French ranks, <br>Like a monster tree its vapours spread, <br>In hideous, burning banks <br>Of poisonous fumes that scorched the night <br>With their sulphurous demon danks. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And men went mad with horror, and fled <br>From that terrible, strangling death, <br>That seemed to sear both body and soul <br>With its baleful, flaming breath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till even the little dark men of the south, <br>Who feared neither God nor man, <br>Those fierce, wild fighters of Afric’s steppes, <br>Broke their battalions and ran:— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ran as they never had run before, <br>Gasping, and fainting for breath; <br>For they knew ’t was no human foe that slew; <br>And that hideous smoke meant death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then red in the reek of that evil cloud, <br>The Hun swept over the plain; <br>And the murderer’s dirk did its monster work, <br>’Mid the scythe-like shrapnel rain; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till it seemed that at last the brute Hun hordes <br>Had broken that wall of steel; <br>And that soon, through this breach in the freeman’s dyke, <br>His trampling hosts would wheel;— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And sweep to the south in ravaging might, <br>And Europe’s peoples again <br>Be trodden under the tyrant’s heel, <br>Like herds, in the Prussian pen. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But in that line on the British right, <br>There massed a corps amain, <br>Of men who hailed from a far west land <br>Of mountain and forest and plain; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Men new to war and its dreadest deeds, <br>But noble and staunch and true; <br>Men of the open, East and West, <br>Brew of old Britain’s brew. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">These were the men out there that night, <br>When Hell loomed close ahead; <br>Who saw that pitiful, hideous rout, <br>And breathed those gases dread; <br>While some went under and some went mad; <br>But never a man there fled. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the word was “Canada,” theirs to fight, <br>And keep on fighting still;— <br>Britain said, fight, and fight they would, <br>Though the Devil himself in sulphurous mood <br>Came over that hideous hill. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, stubborn, they stood, that hero band, <br>Where no soul hoped to live; <br>For five, ’gainst eighty thousand men, <br>Were hopeless odds to give. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yea, fought they on! ’T was Friday eve, <br>When that demon gas drove down; <br>’T was Saturday eve that saw them still <br>Grimly holding their own; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sunday, Monday, saw them yet, <br>A steadily lessening band, <br>With “no surrender” in their hearts, <br>But the dream of a far-off land, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where mother and sister and love would weep <br>For the hushed heart lying still;— <br>But never a thought but to do their part, <br>And work the Empire’s will. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ringed round, hemmed in, and back to back, <br>They fought there under the dark, <br>And won for Empire, God and Right, <br>At grim, red Langemarck. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wonderful battles have shaken this world, <br>Since the Dawn-God overthrew Dis; <br>Wonderful struggles of right against wrong, <br>Sung in the rhymes of the world’s great song, <br>But never a greater than this. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bannockburn, Inkerman, Balaclava, <br>Marathon’s godlike stand; <br>But never a more heroic deed, <br>And never a greater warrior breed, <br>In any war-man’s land. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the ballad of Langemarck, <br>A story of glory and might; <br>Of the vast Hun horde, and Canada’s part <br>In the great, grim fight</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wilfred+Campbell">William Wilfred Campbell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539868" data-title="Langemarck At Ypres de William Wilfred Campbell" data-description="This is the ballad of Langemarck, 
A story of glory and might; 
Of the vast Hun horde, and Canada’s part 
In the great grim fight. 

It was April fair on the Flanders Fields, 
But the dreadest April then 
That ever the years, in their fateful fl..."></div>
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