Page:Patriotic pieces from the Great War, Jones, 1918.djvu/193

Rh THE PRAYER

Permission of the publishers, Geo. H. Doran Co., New York

You say there's only evil in this war—

That bullets drive out Christ? If you had been

In Furnes with me that night ... what would you say,

I wonder?

It was ruin past all words,

Horror where joyous comfort used to be,

And not clean quiet death, for all day long

The great shells tore the little that remained

Like vultures on a body that still breathes.

They stopped as it grew dark. I looked about

The ghastly wilderness that once had been

The village street, and saw no other life

Except a Belgian soldier, shadowy

Among the shadows, and a little group

Of children creeping from a cellar school

And hurrying home. One older than the rest—

So little older!—mothered them along

Till all at once a stray belated shell

Whined suddenly out of the gloom, and burst

Near by. The babies wailed and clung together,

Helpless with fear. In vain the little mother

Encouraged them—"But no! you mustn't cry,