Page:More songs by the fighting men, soldier poets, second series, 1917.djvu/44

More Songs by the Fighting Men When came the silvered silence of the night

I stole to casements over scented lawns,

And softly sang of love and love's delight

To mute white marble fauns.

Oft in the tavern parlour I would sing

Of morning sun upon the mountain vine,

And, calling for a chorus, sweep the string

In praise of good red wine.

I played with all the toys the gods provide,

I sang my songs and made glad holiday.

Now I have cast my broken toys aside

And flung my lute away.

A singer once, I now am fain to weep.

Within my soul I feel strange music swell,

Vast chants of tragedy too deep—too deep

For my poor lips to tell.

The Secret

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