TO A SKYLARK BEHIND THE TRENCHES
Th/u little voice! Thou happy sprite, How didst thou gain, the air and light— That sing'st so merrily? How could such little wings . Give thee thy freedom from theso dense And fetid tombs—these' burrows whenco We peer like frightened thins?? In the, free sky Thou sail'st while here we crawl and creep 'And fight and sleep '.-bid die. How canst thou sing while Nature lies Bleeding and torn beneath thine eyes, And the foul breath' Of rank decay hangs like a shroud Over the fields the shell hath ploughed ? How canst thou sing, so gay and glad, While 'all the heaveus are filled with death / And all tho World is Mad? Yet sing! For at thy song The ,tall trees stjyid up straight and strong And stretch their twisted arms.'And smoke .ascends from pleasant farms And tho shy flowers their odours give, Onco more the riven pastures smile, And for a while .Wo live. 1 —-E. DE S., in "The Times." France, May, 1916.
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Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2852, 17 August 1916, Page 5
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170TO A SKYLARK BEHIND THE TRENCHES Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2852, 17 August 1916, Page 5
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