Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/188

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For now the gorse is all in flower,

The chestnut tapers light the morn,

Gold gleam the oaks, the sun has power

To robe the glittering plain with corn;

I hear from all the land of hope a voice

That bids me forward bravely and rejoice.

So merry are the lambs at play,

So cheerfully the cattle feed,

With such security the May

Has built green walls round every mead,

O'er happy roofs such grey old church-towers peep,

Who would not fight these dear, dear homes to keep?

For hawthorn wreath, for bluebell glade,

For miles of buttercup that shine,

For song of birds in sun and shade

That fortify this soul of mine,

For all May joy beneath an English sky,

How sweet to live—how glad and good to die! Hardwicke Drummond Rawnsley