BALLADE
No. 2
You dawns, whose loveliness I have not missed,
Making so delicate background for the larches
Melting the hills to softest amethyst;
O beauty never absent from our marches;
Passion of heaven shot golden through the arches
Of woods, or filtered softly from a star,
Nature’s wild love that never cloys or parches;
Because of you I love the name of War.
I have seen dawn and sunset, night and morning,