At intervals we heard them
Between the guns, he said,
Making a thrilling music
Above the listening dead.
Of woodland and of orchard
And roadside tree bereft,
The nightingales of Flanders
Were singing “France is left!”
THE WIDOW
MISS C. M. MITCHELL
in Punch
Reproduced by special permission of the Proprietors of “Punch”
MY heart is numb with sorrow;
The long days dawn and wane;
To me no sweet tomorrow
Will bring my man again.
Yet must my grief be hidden—
Life makes insistent claim,
And women, anguish-ridden,
Their rebel hearts must tame.
For while, my vigil keeping,
I face the eternal law,
Here on my breast lies sleeping
The son he never saw.