The Old Road to Paradise/Next Year

by Margaret Widdemer

NEXT YEAR

Up and down the street I know,
 Now that there are 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 lie
 Still next year in France?"

When the girls go fluttering—
 Flushing cheek and tossing head—
My heart asks "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!