Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/332

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290

THE HOSPITAL SHIP

Lazily swaying there in the bay,
But it went out with the light of the day—
Out where the white seas toss.
Green-lit, red-lit hospital ship,
Cold are my hands and trembling my lip:
Did you make home from the bay?

W. H. Littlejohn.