At the Movies Poem by Florence Ripley Mastin
At the Movies
They swing across the screen in brave array,
Long British columns grinding the dark grass.
Twelve months ago they marched into the grey
Of battle; yet again behold them pass!
One lifts his dusty cap; his hair is bright;
I meet his eyes, eager and young and bold.
The picture quivers into ghostly white;
Then I remember, and my heart grows cold!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/19/2024 7:54:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
