Page:The Five Nations.djvu/150

130 Who recalls the morning and the thunder through the foothills

(Tufts of fleecy shrapnel strung along the empty plains?)

And the sun-scarred Red-Cross coaches creeping guarded to the culvert,

And the faces of the Sisters looking gravely from the trains?

(When the days were torment and the nights were clouded terror,

When the Powers of Darkness had dominion on our soul

When we fled consuming through the Seven Hells of fever,

These put out their hands to us and healed and made us whole.)

Who recalls the midnight by the bridge's wrecked abutment

(Autumn rain that rattled like a Maxim on the tin?)