It was the red earth of Devon that called to me,
'So you 'm back, you li'l boy that us used to know!'
It was the deep, dim lanes that wind to the sea,
And the Devon streams that turn and twist and run,
And the Devon hills that stretch themselves in the sun
Like drowsy green cats watching the world below...
and remembering those of his friends who would not see these scenes again, he feels
It was for this you died: this, through the earth,
Peace and the great men peace shall make,
And dogs and children and careless mirth....
He threw his challenge of gold in the teeth of Winter for the sake of peace and home, and that all that made home dear to him might be held inviolate.
In a brief introduction to Magpies in Picardy, Mr. Harold Munro says rightly that these poems are remarkable 'as the expression of a personality,' and the personality they express is so intensely human, of such strength and charm, that one would not willingly lose anything of it that may remain to us, and is glad to learn that the letters and other prose writings of Cameron Wilson are being brought together and will presently be published.
