would not share my garden hope with me.

My Garden, 1918

Such was my garden once, a Springtide hope of flowers,
All rosy pink or violet or blue
Or yellow gold, with sunflecks on the dew.
Now in their place a Summer garden towers
Of green-leaved artichokes and turnip tops,
Of peas and parsnips, sundry useful crops.
--But even vegetables must have _little_ flowers.

Over the Top!

_Ten_ more minutes! Say yer prayers,
Read yer Bibles,--pass the rum!
_Ten_ more minutes! Strike me dumb,
'Ow they creeps on unawares
Those blooming minutes. _Nine_. It's queer,
I'm sorter stunned. It ain't with fear!

_Eight._ It's like as if a frog
Waddled round in your inside
Cold as ice-blocks, straddled wide,
Tired o' waiting.--Where's the grog?
_Seven._ I'll play you pitch and toss.
_Six._ I wins, and tails your loss.

'Nother minute sprinted by
'Fore I knowed it; only _four_
(Break 'em into seconds) more
'Twixt us and Eternity!
Every word I've ever said
Seems a-shouting in my head!

_Three_. Larst night a little star
Fairly shook up in the sky,
Frightened by the lullaby
Rattled by the dogs of war.
Funny thing--that star all white
Saw old Blighty too, larst night!

_Two._ I ain't ashamed o' prayers,
They're only wishes sent ter God,
Bits o' plants from bloody sod
Trailing up His golden stairs.
_Ninety seconds._ Well, who cares!--
_One._ . . . . . .
. . . . . .
No pipe, no blare, no drum--
Over the Top!--to Kingdom Come

To His Dear Memory

(April 14th, 1917)

Beneath the humid skies
Where green birds wing, and heavy burgeoned trees
Sway in the fevered breeze,
My Brother lies.

And rivers passionate[A]
Tore through the mountain passes, swept the plains,
O'erbrimmed with tears, o'erbrimmed with summer rains,
All wild, all desolate.
Whilst the deep Mother-breast
Of drowsy-lidded Nature, drunk with dreams,
Below Pangani, by Rufigi streams,
Took him to rest.

Beneath the sunlit skies,
Where bright birds wing, and rich luxuriant trees
Sway in the fevered breeze,
My Brother lies.

The bending grasses woo
His hurried grave; a cross of oak to show
The drifting winds, a Soldier sleeps below.
--Our Saviou