We met a strange old man to-day (As we strolled in the ruined plac… And he smiled to us as we came his… With gentle, wistful grace. ‘ Ah! Messieurs, it is very sad’

I HEAR a rat scurrying At the end o’ the street Across the moon-lit stones, hurryi… To dingier retreat— A ruined house against the moon,

Lo! there she comes from afar Her eyes tender as moonlight Or the evening star On a purple night In Autumn! See!

If I should die—chatter only this… ‘A bullet flew by that did not mis… I did not give life up because of… That bullet came thro’, and that w… Don’t put up a cross where my dung…

JUNE! the joyous, sun-filled mon… When roses, emblems of a heaven, c… Strange melodies in garden and in… With blithesome birds that sing in… Of English lanes; and thousand ot…

A HISSING Stove whose pale blu… Boils peeled potatoes pillaged wit… The night before from captured vil… The Germans were, not long ago ;… A wooden table ; and in glimmering…

A DIGGER he digs in the dark In the naked remains of a wood, For his friend that lies stiff and… On his head hard blood for a hood: The digging is painful and slow,

I PRAY to God at night, Tho’ I know not where He is Nor what He is; Nor whether I am right: I pray to God at night.

Think not of me as facing death, Tattered, labouring for breath ; Rather think of one who strays Dreaming dreams by perfumed ways. Soon I may die, ah! true, ’tis tr…

A dead man dead for weeks Is sickening food for lover’s eye That seeks and ever seeks A fair one’s beauty ardently! Did that thing live of late?

Ah! when it rains all day And the sky is a mist That creeps by chillily Where sun once kissed, Like death pale shroud,

It is not sweet to die for one’s c… I saw a dead man stinking in a tre… Where even flies would sicken with… Ah! is it sweet to die for one’s c… His face had rotted black as ebony…

Let me not think of blood to-night… So doing It will be harder still to fight: Peace’s wooing Sucks blood making me white

I HAVE leaned on God And have been comforted by Him: My fears have been allayed ; My terror of Death has been forgo… My frightened heart

THE hour is drowsed with things o… That round my tottering senses cre… Like subtle wandering scents, so r… They might ensweeten fairies’ hair… And I am walking in a glade