"The Stars and Stripes went into battle at Vimy
Ridge on the bayonet of a young Texan, fighting
with a Canadian regiment."—News item.
On Vimy Ridge the Flag renewed
Her youth: the thunder of the guns
Recalled the crimson plenitude
Shed by her ancient sons.
Once more her white and scarlet bands
Were new-baptized with battle sweat:
She felt the clutch of desperate hands,
The push of bayonet.
Across that bloody snarl of wire
Her colors blossomed clean as flame:
The Bride of Glory, in desire
To meet her groom she came.
The lightning in her folds she kept,
The sky, the stars, the dew—
Impassioned, in her youth she swept
On Vimy, born anew!

HAY FEVER, AND OTHER LITERARY POLLEN

HAY FEVER

If Rudyard Kipling Had It

If you can face a ragweed without sneezing
And walk undaunted past a stack of hay;
If you can find a field of daisies pleasing,
And not require ten handkerchiefs a day;
If you can stroll in meadowland and orchard
And greet the goldenrod with gay surprise,
And not be most abominably tortured
By swollen nose and bloodshot, flaming eyes;
If you can go on sneezing like a geyser
And never utter one unmeasured curse;
If you can squeeze the useless atomiser
Nor look with envy on each passing hearse;
If you can still be merry in September,
And not lay plans to drown yourself in drink,
Then your career is something to remember,
And you deserve an Iron Cross, I think!

HAY FEVER