Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/417

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And then I dreamed that—suddenly, strangely clear—

A voice I knew not, faltered at my ear:

"Courage!" . . . Your own dear voice, loved since, and known!

And now that she sleeps well, come times her voice

Whispers in day-dreams: "Courage, son! Rejoice

That, leaving you, I left you not alone." Gilbert Frankau

OMETHING sings gently through the din of battle,

Something spreads very softly rim on rim,

And every soldier hears, at times, a murmur

Tender, incessant,—dim.