WAR.

Taranaki Daily News, 22 January 1918, Page 3

WAR.

The following poem, by G, S. Milne, member ol the Journalists' Institute, Montrose (Scotland) secured first prize in one of the Scotch papers, and was penned after the battle of the Marne. Mr. Milne is a nephew of Mr. John Milne, of Toko. Oh, war, grand war, with its pomp and pride, That glorious charge and that dashing ride, ° Brave deeds that never die of age, that shine as bright on history's page; Oh, the splendour of the victory. Oh, war, dread war, with its crimstin trails, The widow's tears and the wails Sad lonely homes in a desolate land, " hich war has gripped witt>. its bloodstained hands: Oh, the maimed, and dead of the victory. 0,1 ' I " r "4 t srPftt - %var » witll ita splendor Hiat have array in its martial might, proving steed and the glitter of steel, The thrill of the heart which foemen feel When they ride to death or victory. Oh, war, cruel war, with its gruesome rights, The human wreck of its ghastly fights, the dying groans of poor wounded men, Oil, when—ye 'civilised" nations when Wil) right—not might—have the victory?