From a War Station

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To A. K. F.
IN Oxford now the lamps are lit.
  The city bells ring low,
And up and down the silent town
  The ghosts of friendship go.

With whispering laughs they meet and pass
  As we were used to do,
And somewhere in the airy crowd
  My spirit walks with you.

The troopers quarter in the rooms
  That once were yours and mine,
And you are lying out to-night
  Behind the firing-line.

But still in rooms that were our own
  We wander, you and I,
And night and day our spirits walk
  Along the empty High.

Golspie, 1915