A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Song

by Edward Joseph Harrington O'Brien

For works with similar titles, see Song.

SONG

SHE goes all so softly,
Like a shadow on the hill,
A faint wind at twilight
That stirs, and is still.

She weaves her thoughts whitely,
Like doves in the air,
Though a grey mound in Flanders
Clouds all that was fair.

Edward J. O'Brien