Page:The Five Nations.djvu/211

 LICHTENBERG

(N. S. W. CONTINGENT)

are surer than sounds or sights

To make your heart-strings crack—

They start those awful voices o' nights

That whisper, "Old man, come back."

That must be why the big things pass

And the little things remain,

Like the smell of the wattle by Lichtenberg,

Riding in, in the rain.

There was some silly fire on the flank

And the small wet drizzling down—

There were the sold-out shops and the bank

And the wet, wide-open town;

And we were doing escort-duty

To somebody's baggage-train,

And I smelt wattle by Lichtenberg—

Riding in, in the rain.

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