/. Lewis Milligan
Still the broken bells of Flanders
Chime their hope down misty years; When the dust claims these Commanders Christ is born ! shall ring through Flanders When the Prince of Peace appears.
Do you hear the bells soft chiming From the blessed Yules of yore? Sweeter far than poet s rhyming Is their message, and their chiming Shall re-echo evermore !
��B
��T
��MUNITIONS
LACK, sweaty visaged in the furnace flame,
They juggle with the seething element ; With Vulcan strokes they beat it till they tame
The deep-mined mineral into mute content : Now tis a hollow cone of battered steel,
Rough and inert, a dead and graceless hull ; They set it on a flying belted wheel
And hew it to a surface beautiful.
Unto the brim they fill the shining cup
With deadly morsels charged with blasts of hell,
With perfect cap and screw they seal it up- And lo ! you have the thing we call a shell/
With which they feed the mouths of mighty guns
To glut the war-lust of the turgid Huns.
��THEY SHALL RETURN
HEY shall return when the wars are over, When battles are memories dim and far;
Where guns now stand shall be corn and clover, Flowers shall bloom where the blood-drops are.
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