Poems (Kennedy)/May Time
MAY-TIME
'TIS May-time here in our own fields, The blue birds sing all day,But—tis hiss of shot and snap of shell For those we've sent away; For the May-time is a battle time, And far across the sea Our men will keep their tryst with death Or win for Liberty!
'Tis May-time in the London lanes, Where blossoms softly nod,But—'tis fight-time on the Flanders front, Where souls go home to God; For the May-time is a bloody time, Where fierce the hot hail sweeps, And COURAGE at the gates of hell Its steadfast vigil keeps!
'Tis May-time in the Paris parks, The shadows fleck the grass,But—"tis "stand and die" in Picardy With cry: "You shall not pass!" For the May-time it is death time, Where the lilied banners shine, And, oh! 'tis VALOR'S Golden Age Down all that gun-swept line!