Explore "The Guards Came Through" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Men of the Twenty-first, / Up by the Chalk Pit Wood, / Weak from our wounds and our thirst, / Wanting our sleep and our food / After a day and a night. / God! shall I ever forget? / Beaten and broke in the fight, / But sticking it, sticking it yet, / Trying to hold the line, / Fainting and spent and done; / Always the thud and the whine, / Always the yell of the Hun. / Northumberland, Lancaster, York, / Durham and Somerset, / Fighting alone, worn to the bone, / But sticking it, sticking it yet.
Never a message of hope, / Never a word of cheer, / Fronting Hill 70's shell-swept slope, / With the dull, dead plain in our rear; / Always the shriek of the shell, / Always the roar of the burst, / Always the tortures of Hell, / As waiting and wincing we cursed / Our luck, the guns, and the Boche. / When our Corporal shouted "Stand to! " / And I hear some one cry, "Clear the front for the Guards! " -- / And the Guards came through.