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46
ARMISTICE DAY
The earth was torn and quaking,
The sky about to fall;
The nightingales of Flanders.
They minded not at all.
At intervals he heard them,
Between the guns, he said,
Making a thrilling music
Above the listening dead.
Of woodland and of orchard
And roadside tree bereft,
The nightingales of Flanders
Were singing, "France is left!"
PARIS AGAIN
(From Punch)
Big blue overcoat and breeches red as red,
And a queer quaint kepi at an angle on his head;
And he sang as he was marching, and in the Tuileries
You could meet him en permission with Margot on his knee.
At the little café tables by the dusty palms in tubs,
In the Garden of the Luxembourg, among the scented shrubs,
