The Going of the Battery Wives’ Lament
O IT was sad enough, weak enough, mad enough—Light in their loving as soldiers can be—First to risk choosing them, leave alone losing themNow, in far battle, beyond the South Sea! . . .
—Rain came down drenchingly; but we unblenchinglyTrudged on beside them through mirk and through mire,They stepping steadily—only too readily!—Scarce as if stepping brought parting-time nigher.
Great guns were gleaming there, living things seeming there,Cloaked in their tar-cloths, upmouthed to the night;Wheels wet and yellow from axle to felloe,Throats blank of sound, but prophetic to sight.
Gas-glimmers drearily, blearily, eerilyLit our pale faces outstretched for one kiss,While we stood prest to them, with a last quest to themNot to court perils that honour could miss.
Sharp were those sighs of ours, blinded these eyes of ours,When at last moved away under the archAll we loved. Aid for them each woman prayed for them,Treading back slowly the track of their march.
Someone said: “Nevermore will they come: evermoreAre they now lost to us.” O it was wrong!Though may be hard their ways, some Hand will guard their ways,Bear them through safely, in brief time or long.
—Yet, voices haunting us, daunting us, taunting us,Hint in the night-time when life beats are lowOther and graver things . . . Hold we to braver things,Wait we, in trust, what Time’s fulness shall show.
(Affixing the Lists of Killed and Wounded: December, 1899)
LAST year I called this world of gain-givingsThe darkest thinkable, and questioned sadlyIf my own land could heave its pulse less gladly,So charged it seemed with circumstance whence springsThe tragedy of things.
Yet at that censured time no heart was rentOr feature blanched of parent, wife, or daughterBy hourly blazoned sheets of listed slaughter;Death waited Nature’s wont; Peace smiled unshentFrom Ind to Occident.
Words in this poem 15
- mirk a.
- Dark; gloomy; murky. Spenser. Mrs. Browning. [See Murky.]
- scarce a.
- Not plentiful or abundant; in small quantity in proportion to the demand; not easily to be procured; rare; uncommon. [OE. scars, OF. escars, eschars, LL. scarpsus, for L. excerptus, p. p. of excerpere to pick out, and hence to contract, to shorten; ex (see Ex-) + carpere. See C]
- drearily adv.
- Gloomily; dismally.
- eerily adv.
- In a strange, unearthly way.
- prest a.
- Ready; prompt; prepared. [OF. prest, F. prêt, fr. L. praestus ready. Cf. Presto.]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- nevermore adv.
- Never again; at no time hereafter. Testament of Love. Tyndale.
- evermore adv.
- During eternity; always; forever; for an indefinite period; at all times; -- often used substantively with for.
- graver n.
- One who graves; an engraver or a sculptor; one whose occupation is te cut letters or figures in stone or other hard material.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- thinkable a.
- Capable of being thought or conceived; cogitable. Sir W.
- sadly adv.
- Wearily; heavily; firmly.
- gladly adv.
- Preferably; by choice. [From Glad, a.]
- hourly a.
- Happening or done every hour; occurring hour by hour; frequent; often repeated; renewed hour by hour; continual.
- unshent a.
- Not shent; not disgraced; blameless. Bp. Hall.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Going of the Battery Wives’ Lament is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems of the Past and the Present, Project Gutenberg ebook #3168; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Hardy, The Going of the Battery Wives’ Lament, in Poems of the Past and the Present (1901), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #3168, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hardy-past-and-present/the-going-of-the-battery-wives-lament.html, id L16855.
Form and metre
The Going of the Battery Wives’ Lament is 39 lines in 10 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -A-A enough · beA · them · seaA
- 2 -A-A unblenchingly · mireA · readily · nigherA
- 3 -A-A there · nightA · felloe · sightA
- 4 -A-A eerily · kissA · them · missA
- 5 -A-A ours · archA · them · marchA
- 6 -A-A evermore · wrongA · ways · longA
- 7 -A-A us · lowA · things · showA
- 9 ABBAA givingsA · sadlyB · gladlyB · springsA · thingsA
- 10 ABBAA rentA · daughterB · slaughterB · unshentA · occidentA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| O IT was sad enough, weak enough, mad enough— | 12 | ····˘/·˘/·˘/ |
| Light in their loving as soldiers can be— | 10 | ···/˘·/˘·· |
| First to risk choosing them, leave alone losing them | 12 | ···/˘··˘//˘· |
| Now, in far battle, beyond the South Sea! . . . | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| —Rain came down drenchingly; but we unblenchingly | 12 | ············ |
| Trudged on beside them through mirk and through mire, | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| They stepping steadily—only too readily!— | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘·/˘ |
| Scarce as if stepping brought parting-time nigher. | 11 | ···/˘·/˘··· |
| Great guns were gleaming there, living things seeming there, | 12 | ···/˘·/˘·/˘· |
| Cloaked in their tar-cloths, upmouthed to the night; | 10 | ·········· |
| Wheels wet and yellow from axle to felloe, | 11 | ···/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| Throats blank of sound, but prophetic to sight. | 10 | ·····˘/˘·· |
| Gas-glimmers drearily, blearily, eerily | 11 | ·/˘/˘˘···/˘ |
| Lit our pale faces outstretched for one kiss, | 10 | ·/·/˘˘/··· |
| While we stood prest to them, with a last quest to them | 12 | ············ |
| Not to court perils that honour could miss. | 10 | ···/˘·/˘·· |
| Sharp were those sighs of ours, blinded these eyes of ours, | 12 | ·····//˘···/ |
| When at last moved away under the arch | 10 | ····˘/···· |
| All we loved. Aid for them each woman prayed for them, | 12 | ·······/˘··· |
| Treading back slowly the track of their march. | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| Someone said: “Nevermore will they come: evermore | 12 | /··/˘····/˘· |
| Are they now lost to us.” O it was wrong! | 10 | ·········· |
| Though may be hard their ways, some Hand will guard their ways, | 12 | ············ |
| Bear them through safely, in brief time or long. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| —Yet, voices haunting us, daunting us, taunting us, | 12 | ·/˘/˘·/˘·/˘· |
| Hint in the night-time when life beats are low | 10 | ·········· |
| Other and graver things . . . Hold we to braver things, | 12 | /˘·/˘····/˘· |
| Wait we, in trust, what Time’s fulness shall show. | 10 | ······/˘·· |
| (Affixing the Lists of Killed and Wounded: December, 1899) | 13 | ˘/˘·····/˘˘/˘ |
| LAST year I called this world of gain-givings | 10 | ········/˘ |
| The darkest thinkable, and questioned sadly | 11 | ·/˘/˘˘·/˘/˘ |
| If my own land could heave its pulse less gladly, | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| So charged it seemed with circumstance whence springs | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| The tragedy of things. | 6 | ·/˘˘·· |
| Yet at that censured time no heart was rent | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| Or feature blanched of parent, wife, or daughter | 11 | ·/˘··/˘··/˘ |
| By hourly blazoned sheets of listed slaughter; | 11 | ·/˘····/˘/˘ |
| Death waited Nature’s wont; Peace smiled unshent | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| From Ind to Occident. | 6 | ···/˘· |
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