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NEXT YEAR

Permission of Everybody's Magazine, New York

Up and down the street I know,
Now that there is Grief and War
All day long the people go
As they went before;


But when now the lads go by—
Careless look and careless glance—
My heart wonders—"Which shall be
Still next year in France?"


When the girls go fluttering—
Flushing cheek and tossing head—
My heart says "Next year shall bring
Which a lover dead?"


Lord, let Peace be kind and fleet—
Put an end to Grief and War;
Let them walk the little street
Careless as before!