Herbert E. Palmer

“ The thrush, May's mottled elf, the minstrel, sang
More harsh than was his wont. The blackbird rang
Strange sobbing woodland bells. The finch so sweet
Lay with glazed eye, and raised each shattered wing,
And cried in sudden pain, but could not sing.
The sparrow twittered, "'Tis dark under the eaves,
And sad-eyed Margot sits at home and grieves."
The lark said, "God is angry in bright Heaven.
I saw Him once,—a great white fluttering bird
With beautiful broad wings that oft are heard
When the wind beats the blue nave of the skies. ”

“ Arab spearmen thrusting at the dying and the dead;
He had left the shrunken ranks to save a comrade in the rear;
And he raised himself and cursed them; and went down beneath a spear.
He lies and stares at Heaven through a cloud of crows and kites;
While round him prowl the jackals in the lurid tropic nights.
And he'll slowly bleach to powder 'neath the sunlight's livid scroll,
—The man they chased from Europe whom the world denied a soul. ”

“ I see them shake and shake, as live men fall.
Shrapnel crushes them in its fierce caress;
The black guns chant a pæan of their skill.
But little recks the world in its distress
The sorrow that is silent on the hill. ”