Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/296

 270 LOUIS UNTEEMEYER

Spring, with the noises

Of shrill, little voices ;

Joining in "Tag" and the furious chase

Of "I-spy," "Red Rover" and "Prisoner's Base";

Of the roller-skates whir at the sidewalk's slope,

Of boys playing marbles and girls skipping rope.

And there, down the avenue, behold,

The first true herald of the Spring —

The hand-organ gasping and wheezily murmuring

Its tunes ten-years old. . ..

And the music, trivial and tawdry, has freshness

and magical swing. And over and under it, During and after — The laughter Of Spring ! . ..

And lifted still

With the common thrill,

With the throbbing air, the tingling vapor,

That rose like strong and mingled wines ;

I turned to my paper.

And read these lines :

" Now that the Spring is here,

The war enters its bloodiest phase. ..

The men are impatient. ...

Bad roads, storms and the rigors of the winter

Have held back the contending armies. . ..

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