i
The cenotaph's a white shaft-behind old
willow leaves still hanging on
A drum that thuds and brasses faint on
O Valiant Hearts You can see dark
coats and tams even from here the foot
of my street where gun platoons from the
base downriver get ready to offer their
thunder after two minutes's silence
Three trucks bring in two cannon twenty-one
crated shells and crews six to each Corporals
and lance corporals ready their guns check
elevation then blast alternately
Number-one gun FIRE Number-two gun FIRE
until the count's full the salute all saluted
Gray paper like what's inside a firecracker
rags up as echoes do Shell cases release
and brimstone taints the air with a fine
taste gunmetal gray this cold forenoon