Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/218

 Robert W. Service

Half-blind with blows the boy stood there; he seemed

to swoon and sway; Then in that moment woke the soul of little Jean

Desprez. He saw the woods go sheening down; the larks were

singing clear ; And O the scents and sounds of Spring, how sweet they

were! how dear! He felt the scent of new-mown hay, a soft breeze fanned

his brow; O God ! the paths of peace and toil ! How precious were

they now !

The Summer days and Summer ways, how bright they

were with bliss ! The Autumn such a dream of gold. . . and all

must end in this :

This shining rifle in his hand, that shambles all around ; The Zouave there with dying glare ; the blood upon the

ground ;

The brutal faces round him ringed, the evil eyes aflame ; That Prussian bully standing by, as if he watched a

game. Make haste and shoot/ the Major sneered; a minute

more I give; A minute more to kill your friend, if you yourself would

live/

They only saw a barefoot boy, with blanched and

twitching face ;

They did not see within his eyes the glory of his race; The glory of a million men who for fair France have

died,

The splendour of self-sacrifice that will not be denied. Yet ... he was but a peasant lad, and oh ! but life

was sweet. ..

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