Page:Marching Men - War Verses (1917).pdf/44



O France, when coming springs shall break
 * In foam of bloom to hide thy scars,

And flowers of human kindness make
 * An end of agonies and wars;

Forget not these our sons who came
 * At that first wild, bewildered cry

With their young British hearts aflame
 * Upon thy tragic hills to die.

Still have them in thy guarding care,
 * A holy and a cherished trust;

And let thy children come with prayer
 * To dream awhile beside their dust;—

To dream of tender love and ruth,
 * And give a passing thought to these

Who trod the star-lit ways of truth,
 * Bondsmen of British loyalties.

And since upon thy heart lies now
 * The richest ransom ever paid—

White roses torn from England's brow
 * Beside thy broken lilies laid—

Be thou our friend forever more,
 * In ties of common anguish bound,

That we may know the sons we bore
 * Lie not in unregarded ground.