THE FIRST OF JULY 1916

‘ Tis passing wonderful that they,

The little boys of yesterday,

Should suddenly become such men

That England rings with praise of them.

But tho’ their names are writ in blood

— Deepening crimson flood on flood —

Their impositions writ awry

And copybooks are hardly dry;

And Sweetheart Life had scarcely kissed

The boy to man, when the blue mist

Of twilight lifted; and the dawn

Announced that rosy day was born.

As pink-curled clouds lit up the sky

A little gentle breeze whisked by

Caressing all the poppy-heads —

Rippling fields of budding reds —

Splashes of yellow sunned the earth

Where mustard meadows flowered mirth;

And cornflowers blue ran out to meet

The blue around God's Mercy-seat.

O! all the world and all the sky

Made it a sacrifice to die.