Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 7 (October 1915-March 1916).djvu/103

Refugees "Nay little pilgrim, up with you!
 * And yonder field shall be the town.

I'll show you how the soldiers do
 * Who travel up and down.

They march and sing and march again
 * Not minding all the stones and dust;

They go, (God grant me rest from men!)
 * Forward, because they must."

"Mother, I want to go to sleep."
 * "No, darling! Here is bread to eat

(O God, if thou couldst let me weep,
 * Or heal my broken feet!)"