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MARCHING SONG
by Burnet, Dana [1888- ]

When Pershing's men go marching into Picardy.
Marching, marching into Picardy—
With their steel aslant in the sunlight and their great gray hawks a-wing
And their wagons rumbling after them like thunder in the Spring—
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp
Till the earth is shaken—
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp
Till the dead towns waken!
And flowers fall and shouts arise from Chaumont to the sea—
When Pershing's men go marching, marching into Picardy.
Women of France, do you see them pass to the battle in the North?
And do you stand in the doorways now as when your own went forth?
Then smile to them and call to them, and mark how brave they fare
Upon the road to Picardy that only youth may dare!
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Foot and horse and caisson—
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Such is Freedom's passion—
And oh, take heart, ye weary souls that stand along the Lys,
For the New World is marching, marching into Picardy!
April's sun is in the sky and April's in the grass—
And I doubt not that Pershing's men are singing as they pass—
For they are very young men, and brave men, and free,
And they know why they are marching, marching into Picardy.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Rank and file together—
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Through the April weather.
And never Spring has thrust such blades against the light of dawn
As yonder waving stalks of steel that move so shining on!
I have seen the wooden crosses at Ypres and Verdun,
I have marked the graves of such as lie where the Marne waters run,
And I know their dust is stirring by hill and vale and lea,
And their souls shall be our captains who march to Picardy.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Hope shall fail us never—
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Forward, and forever!
And God is in His judgment seat, and Christ is on His tree—
And Pershing's men are marching, marching into Picardy.
Dana Burnet.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg