large/9551/warpoemssiegfriedsassoon_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/warpoemsofsassoon_55_sassoon_64kb_2
large/9551/warpoemssiegfriedsassoon_1501_librivox_64kb_mp3/warpoemsofsassoon_55_sassoon_64kb
English
9551
We hear them, drink them; till the concert's done. Silent, I watch the shadowy mass of soldiers stand. WE HEAR THEM DRINK THEM TILL THE CONCERT'S DONE SILENT I WATCH THE SHADOWY MASS OF SOLDIERS STAND
s yonder lane Where _he_ so longs to tread; But when there's been a shower of rain I think I'll never weep again Until I've heard he's dead. CONCERT PARTY (EGYPTIAN BASE CAMP) They are gathering round ... Out of the twilight; over the grey-blue sand, Shoals of low-jargoning men drift inward to the sound,-- The jangle and throb of a piano ... tum-ti-tum ... Drawn by a lamp, they come Out of the glimmering lines of their tents, over the shuffling sand. O sing us the sopgs, the songs of our own land, You warbling ladies in white. Dimness conceals the hunger in our faces, This wall of faces risen out of the night, These eyes that keep their memories of the places So long beyond their sight. Jaded and gay, the ladies sing; and the chap in brown Tilts his grey hat; jaunty and lean and pale, He rattles the keys... some actor-bloke from town... "_God send you home_"; and then "_A long, long trail_"; "_I hear you calling me_"; and "_Dixieland_" ... Sing slowly ... now the chorus ... one by one.  SEC OF THE WAR POEMS OF SIGHFRIED SASSOON BY SIGUN READ FOR LIBERVOX DOTORG BY MARK HISSON CONCERT PARTY EGYPTIAN BASE CAMP THEY ARE GATHERING ROUND OUT OF THE TWILIGHT OVER THE GRAY BLUE SAND SHOALS OF LOW JARGONING MEN DRIFT INWARD TO THE SOUND THE JANGLE AND THROB OF A PIANO TUM DE TOM DRAWN BY A LAMP THEY COME OUT OF THE GLIMMERING LINES OF THEIR TENTS OVER THE SHUFFLING SAND O SING US THE SONGS THE SONGS OF OUR OWN LAND YOU WARBLING LADIES IN WHITE DIMNESS CONCEALS THE HUNGER IN OUR FACES THIS WALL OF FACES RISEN OUT OF THE NIGHT THESE EYES THAT KEEP THEIR MEMORIES OF THE PLACES SO LONG BEYOND THEIR SIGHT JADED AND GAY THE LADIES SING AND THE CHAP IN BROWN TILTS HIS GREY HAT JAUNTY AND LEAN AND PALE HE RATTLES THE KEYS SOME ACTOR BLOKE FROM TOWN GOD SEND YOU HOME AND THEN ALONG LONG LONG TRAIL I HEAR YOU CALLING ME AND DIXIE LAND SEEN SLOWLY NOW THE CHORUS ONE BY ONE
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