Page:America in the war -by Louis Raemaekers. (IA americainwarbylo00raem).pdf/106



Here ran a road for lovers once, With maples in the moon; And under a bridge a water went Weaving a dreamy rune.

And high upon the sycamores, The nightingales all night Besieged the dark with melody, Disturbed the boughs with flight.

And here in coverts of tall grass Looked up a friendly spring, Glad to behold a face bent down, Or feel a fleeting wing.

But now the lovers come no more; The road is rutted and marred By wheels and shrieking shells: the trees Are shattered, chopt and charred.

New graves are billowing now: the field Like windy water heaves: The nightingales are gone: the spring Is choked with bloody leaves.

And here at noon a vulture swoops On obscene errands bound: And here at night remembering ghosts Go by without a sound.

EDWIN MARKHAM.