Page:Soldier poets, songs of the fighting men, 1916.djvu/68

Rh Silver throats! Silver throats!

Piping blackbird, trilling thrush:

Shakespeare heard your merry notes;

Still you herald morning's blush:

You shall sing your anthems grand

When we've finished what He planned,

God will hear and understand,

God will give us back our land

Where the water-lily floats,

Silver throats! Silver throats! 64