A Treasury of War Poetry (2nd Series)/At the Movies

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They swing across the screen in brave array,
   Long British columns grinding the dark grass.
Twelve months ago they marched into the gray
   Of battle; yet again behold them pass!

One lifts his dusty cap; his hair is bright;
   I meet his eyes, eager and young and bold.
The picture quivers into ghostly white;
   Then I remember, and my heart grows cold!

Florence Ripley Mastin
January, 1916

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