Page:More songs by the fighting men, soldier poets, second series, 1917.djvu/124

 ARMEL O'CONNOR

Violet

WOULD throw to magnificent doom

White roses at her feet.

Should she tread out the life of each bloom,

What fate could be more sweet?

I would rifle imperial graves

For rings of ancient skill;

I would bring her an army of slaves

Dependent on her will.

I would build her a wonderful home,

The place a Queen to please,

Cedar walls with an ivory dome,

Where she might dwell at ease.

Should she covet the stars or the moon,

Or, yes, the seraphim,

I am sure I should count it a boon

To satisfy her whim.

But I think of her beautiful face,

Her kind, kind English heart 120