KOSSOVO DAY
From this sweet nest of peace and summer blue—
England in June—a sea-bird’s nest indeed
Guarded of waves, and hid by the sea-weed
From envious hunter’s eye, we send to you
Our flying thoughts and prayers, our treasure too,
Poor though it be to bandage wounds that bleed
For country dear beloved. There the seed
Of homely loves and occupations grew
To wither in the flame of godless might
Kindled by hands of treachery, yet reeking
With blood of friends and neighbours. Serbia, thou
Hast thought us careless and far off; know now
Thy name to us is sudden drums outspeaking
And tortured trumpets crying in the night!
Note.—This poem was sent from Crefeld, but was written in England just before the author left for the front.