THE nightingales of Flanders,
They had not gone to war;
A soldier heard them singing
I have an understanding with the hills
At evening when the slanted radiance fills
Their hollows, and the great winds let them be,
And they are quiet and look down at me.
And did thy sapphire shallop slip
Its moorings suddenly, to dip
Adown the clear, ethereal sea
ENOUGH has been said about roses
To fill thirty thick volumes;
There are as many songs about roses
As there are roses in the world
(Killed in action July 31, 1917)
Will you go now,
Dark on the gold west,
Mexico hung inscrutable like a curtain of heavy velvet
Before a lighted shrine.
Black on the west
I will not give thee all my heart
For that I need a place apart
To dream my dreams in, and I know
Oh, cut me reeds to blow upon,
Or gather me a star,
But leave the sultry passion-flowers
Growing where they are.
The little rose is dust, my dear;
The elfin wind is gone
That sang a song of silver words
And cooled our hearts with dawn.