P. U.

Dominion, Volume 11, Issue 248, 8 July 1918, Page 7

P. U.

(l'Vom the "Spike"). I'm sitting here in the firelight's gleam With Uii! liowl of iny wipe Bglov, Folk say, "You are lucky to be back home," And 1 ansn'ui' nor "Yes," nor "No," Aβ (he smoke-rings l.izily curl And wrcnthc I'an tastii , shapes, 1 soo the quick 'nlime's hurried swirl And tlii! hill where the' , crater gupen. 1 see it all through the blue-gviiy smoke From my old and trusted briar. The pits where the grim guns' nozzles poke Till the word comes through to iiro. And as dull night yields place Iα day ■lolinny reuorta with jpy, "Tl-" forward 0.1'.f say's shots 0.K., Wo'll give 'em hell, old boy," But Joliiin,! uiio jolajd while on tho IJUIIS Was killod at Bois Grcnicr. The,i'.luior : a buried in Delville Wood And I—well, I'm sitting here. And I see them all through tho lazy rings, The .vlajor and Johnny, too. And the memory of it ever , clings And- I know what I nhvoye knew, That my heart is still with my pala "out thore" Who are carrying on with tho game. I can see the lights in tho startled air As the guns burst into llame. And Huiugh I've an eye with a sightless stare And one of my arms are gone In my dreams I am seeing the khihiils Hure, And t whisper tho words, "Carryon !"-C. M'.ll .-Permanently unKI. Plwirvntinn Post