Page:Armistice Day.djvu/68

46 The earth was torn and quaking,

The sky about to fall;

The nightingales of Flanders.

They minded not at all.

At intervals he heard them,

Between the guns, he said,

Making a thrilling music

Above the listening dead.

Of woodland and of orchard

And roadside tree bereft,

The nightingales of Flanders

Were singing, "France is left!"

PARIS AGAIN

(From Punch)

blue overcoat and breeches red as red,

And a queer quaint kepi at an angle on his head;

And he sang as he was marching, and in the Tuileries

You could meet him en permission with Margot on his knee.

At the little café tables by the dusty palms in tubs,

In the Garden of the Luxembourg, among the scented shrubs,