Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/307

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I remember it now as a clod

Prone in the gardens of God,—

Mean, without honour or beauty,

Justified but by the duty

Of spending its pittance of power

In rearing a heavenly flower. Robert Haven Schauffler

T'S Autumn-time on Salisbury Plain.

Let it be Autumn-time again

When life is cured of this black pain

And I go home, go home again,

By Highgate on the Hill.