Page:Patriotic pieces from the Great War, Jones, 1918.djvu/170

166 The man who ranges in No Man's Land

Is dogged by the shadows on either hand

When the star-shell's flare, as it bursts o'erhead,

Scares the great gray rats that feed on the dead,

And the bursting bomb or the bayonet-snatch

May answer the click of your safety-catch.

For the lone patrol, with his life in his hand,

Is hunting for blood in No Man's Land.

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