H. Smalley Sarson
So everywhere
When yester-year found peace and happiness
Now death prowling lurks in gruesome power;
The thrushes sing no longer in the woods,
Whilst over all there meditates and broods
The sovereign cruelty of war.
To Sister E. W.
YOU gave me a white carnation:
Was it in sympathy?
And did you know the flower meant
Youth's glad world to me?
A simple white carnation.
Yet you seemed to understand
What I craved was a woman's smile,
The touch of a gentle hand,
So you gave me a white carnation—
'Twas a foolish thing to do,
For whenever I see carnations now
I shall always think of you.
St. Omer, June, 1915.
85
