Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/188

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��Sheila Rand

TO ONE WHO DIED IN ACTION

OR thirteen years,

Each first of June,

We marked our heights upon the schoolroom door.

With girlish jeers,

Each first of June,

I scoffed, O cousin, you must grow still more

If you would be as tall as I

Next first of June !

My solemn, pale-faced cousin, Fie !

To let me win the race.

Ah me! To-day,

This first of June,

They wrote that you in Flanders found a grave.

So now I say,

This first of June,

O pale-faced cousin, sleeping with the brave,

Would I could grow as tall as you

Next first of June,

And stride, as British heroes do,

With head above the clouds!

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HE Three-Flowered Avens bow most gracefully To purple-tinted grasses growing near. Thanks be to God for this sweet tranquil place, Where one forgets such things as race, And hate, and devastating war. Hark ! I can hear The piquant tantalizing trill Of Canada s most saucy mocking bird. O how describe the thrill Of joy one feels, when coming face to face With lissome Spring in all her finery!

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