WANTED—A SOLDIER'S BOOK OF VERSE. (TO THE EDITOR OF THE
"SPECTATOR.") S11,-1 should like to endorse every word your correspondent, Mr. H. J. Rose, wrote last week respecting the way in which short, stirring verses such as Mr. Newbolt's were appreciated by the troops in South Africa. Whenever it was possible in a standing camp, lectures and concerts were arranged for the men, and on one such occasion, in the course of some remarks, I quoted the lines from Browning's Epilogue commencing,— " One who never turned his back, but marched breast forward." I was promptly asked to say it over again slowly; pencils and odd scraps of paper were produced, and all over the tent I saw laborious efforts being made to scribble down the verses. The audience included Yeomanry, C.I.V.'s, gunners, sappers, and men from three or four Line battalions. I suggested that it would be better to wait until the close of the evening, when those who wished for the verse could stay behind, and I would dictate it as slowly as they wished. When the time came, more than three hundred men kept their places, and carried away the words pencilled inside pocket Testaments, note- books, on the back of envelopes, or on any piece of paper which could be raised. " Mind you give us a fresh one next time, Miss," remarked a private in a Lancashire regiment. "Words like that stick in a fellow's bead, and come to his mind more than once or twice, I can tell you." Other favourites were Mr. Henley's " What have I done for thee, England, my England ?" Sir A. Conan Doyle's " Corporal Dick " ; Bret Ilarte.8 " Song of the Drum"; a poem of Mrs. Woods's which I believe appeared in the Spectator, "The dead who die for England never die "; several of Mr. Newbolt's poems ; and some lines by Mr. Lionel Johnson entitled " Comrades," all. of theta entirely free from the mawkish sentiments winch alone are supposed to appeal to the soldier. Far be it from me to assert that generally speaking Browning's poems, or other more or less classical verses, are the ballads of the barrack-room. But I saw and heard enough to show me bow much really fine sentiment lies at the back of many of our soldiers, and how readily verses such as those described strike any answering note. They express ideals which the men love
to translate into facts, when the ideals are stripped of all their glamour and only the realities, lurid and awful as they often are, stand out. But herein lies their value, for they bring to the front that side of a soldier's life which is neither painful nor material, and give both a romance and a glory to the plain hard word,—duty. May we not hope that in the near future some one who knows and understands will compile a Soldier's Book of Verse, which should contain contribu- tions from many living poets ? Its value would be great. In conclusion, I cannot refrain from quoting part of a letter I received from a corporal in a Line regiment which speaks for itself :—" Since you left lots of crosses and stones have been put up in the cemetery here [Bloemfontein]. Of course, that's as it should be, but I agree with one of our fellows who said he should like to see a flagstaff up in the middle, so that every now and then the old flag could float over them all, whether they had names to their graves or not. It would serve to show what they died for better than a string of fine words ; don't you think so, Miss ? "—I am, Sir, &c.,
[The flag idea is a fine one, and shows the curious fact that the English race has never taken kindly to what Dr. Johnson called " lapidary inscriptions." We are too shy, too reticent, for the pompous " Hic jaeets ' of the dead," and prefer the green turf or a simple headstone to a " string of fine words." —ED. Spectator.]
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