Poem - Henry Lawson

My Army, O, my army!

By Henry Lawson

My Army, O, my army! The time I dreamed of comes!

I want to see your colours; I want to hear your drums!

I heard them in my boyhood when all men's hearts seemed cold;

I heard them as a Young Man--and I am growing old!

My army, O, my army! The signs are manifold!

My army, O, my army! My army and my Queen!

I used to sing your battle-songs when I was seventeen!

They came to me from ages, they came from far and near;

They came to me from Paris, they came to me from Here!--

They came when I was marching with the Army of the Rear.

My Queen's dark eyes were flashing (oh, she was younger then!);

My Queen's Red Cap was redder than the reddest blood of men!

My Queen marched like an Amazon, with anger manifest--

Her dark hair darkly matted from a knifegash in her breast

(For blood will flow where milk will not--her sisters knew the rest).

My legions ne'er were listed, they had no need to be;

My army ne'er was trained in arms--'twas trained in misery!

It took long years to mould it, but war could never drown

The shuffling of my army's feet in the hunger-haunted town--

A little child was murdered, and so Tyranny went down.

My army kept no order, my army kept no time;

My army dug no trenches, yet died in dust and slime;

Its troops were fiercely ignorant, as to the manner born;

Its clothes were rags and tatters, or patches worn and torn--

Ah, me! It wore a uniform that I have often worn!

The faces of my army were ghastly as the dead;

My army's cause was Hunger, my army's cry was "Bread!"

It called on God and Mary and Christ of Nazareth;

It cried to kings and courtesans that fainted at its breath--

Its women beat their poor, flat breasts where babes had starved to death.

.     .     .     .     .

My army! My army--I hear the sound of drums

Above the roar of battles--and, lo! my army comes!

Nor creed of man may stay it--nor war, nor nation's law--

The pikes go through the firing-lines as pitchforks go through straw--

Like pitchforks through the litter, while empires stand in awe.