Page:Marching Men - War Verses (1917).pdf/43



N France's flowered fields they lie,
 * And she will hold them close and dear,

Above their graves her trees will sigh,
 * Her grasses cover them year by year.

On Summer noons the sun will stream
 * In cheerful warmth across their beds,

By night the moon's slant, filmy beam
 * Build aureoles about their heads.

The fitful winds will make them moan
 * In soft and plaintive melodies,

And they shall lie apart, alone,
 * Through all the coming centuries;

Dwelling in silences so vast
 * No thought to that high tower may climb;

An austere beauty holds them fast
 * Beyond the boundaries of time.

They were to us mere laughing boys,
 * But in the passing of a breath

They turned from life's scarce-tasted joys
 * To this high majesty of death. ..