Page:Patriotic pieces from the Great War, Jones, 1918.djvu/184

180 Little spears of grass are waving, decked with jewels iridescent—

Hark! A man on watch is stricken—I can hear his dying moan—

Lies a road across the starland near the wan and waning crescent,

Where a sentinel off-duty goes to reach his Maker's Throne.

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