Page:Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War.djvu/105

Rh But the field-mouse small and busy ant

Heap their hillocks, to hide if they may the woe:

By the bubbling spring lies the rusted canteen,

And the drum which the drummer-boy dying let go.

Dust to dust, and blood for blood—

''Passion and pangs! Has Time''

''Gone back? or is this the Age''

Of the world's great Prime?

The wagon mired and cannon dragged

Have trenched their scar; the plain

Tramped like the cindery beach of the damned—

A site for the city of Cain.

And stumps of forests for dreary leagues

Like a massacre show. The armies have lain

By fires where gums and balms did burn,

And the seeds of Summer's reign.

Where are the birds and boys?

Who shall go chestnutting when

''October returns? The nuts—''

O, long ere they grow again.