GEOFFREY H. CRUMP
Major, Essex Regiment
God
I WENT alone into the fields to-night,
And stood upon the hillside, where the oaks
Have stood and talked of God in the twilight
For centuries, and cracked their ancient jokes
Over our heads; those veterans know more
Of God than we have learned with all our lore.
I pressed my cheek against an oak's rough bark,
And watched the sun drop down behind the hill;
Silence fell on the valley; the last lark
Was hushed; and suddenly the wind was still . . .
A breath of air went rustling through the trees,
And God passed by me in the sunset breeze.
A clock chimed in the valley down below;
Some children shouted; and the blue smoke curled
Out of the cottage chimneys—'twas as though
There could be nothing ugly in the world;
The lights gleamed from the houses in the wood;
And God smiled, for He saw that it was good.
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