Page:War, the Liberator (1918).djvu/46

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Oh, the old days of friendship
We shall not see again,
The bitter winter trenches
And the marches in the rain.
Bécourt, Authuille, Thiepval,
Henancourt, Avelay,
Their names are keys that open
Remembered doors to me.

Doors that will open never
Upon this tortured land.
I shall not see you ever,
Or take you by the hand.
Only for ancient friendship,
For all the times we knew,
Maybe you will remember
As I remember you.