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James Sutherland Smith

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Voluntary

From across the valley behind the hill
The trumpets sound, quietly, the way
Heinrich Shutz set Herod’s need to kill
Against a consonance of subdued brass.

From across the valley behind the hill
The trumpets sound, pleasantly, the way
Old soldiers gloss a cruelty and spill
An anecdote as duty done with pride.

The trumpets sound heartbreakingly for Jill
Who dreamed of Spring weddings and now must wait,
God knows how long, for Jimmy learning drill
Under a sergeant-major’s tarnished eye.

But neither Jill nor Jimmy ever will
Learn the meaning of their separation
However short it is. What music, shrill
And dissonant, can prick soldiers to confess

To sweethearts they, unthinkingly,
Could slaughter infants or indeed that they
Could be untrue although, unblinkingly,
They’ll recite infidelities of friends?

So fetch a Christmas bottle and a corkscrew
Because Jimmy’s gone to be a soldier;
Innocence is not knowing what you’ll do,
Experience not telling what you’ve done

And drink to Jimmy coming home to Jill.
He’ll never say how misleadingly
The trumpets sound from behind the hill.
He’ll listen, scratch his scars then sit still.



Untitled Photograph


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