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Show Miscellany The Ghostly Ruffles. By LIZETTE WOODWORTJI REESE. When nil tho candle of 111 nun Are quenchnd, and the lonj? flay In done, And Rimis about the hlnliwn v no. And twirl the vnne on shsdowy burn, Then dim tho bugles blow nnd blow, The busies of th Mnrno. -frin bouwu. ptnrt'llnr nit n mU. Strain forwnrd, sorrowing check to oheelt; The folk within them start and cry. Like Mir of roods by some vastte tarn. The biiKts whlspor lean and hlph, The buplrs of the Marne. There are great pilosis come marching by! France listens with her fiice to sky; France llntens with her head on knees The ghosts of them that fought at Marne! The bugles break with memories, The bugles of tho Marno. Archangel Michael hernia the train; Next, Joan, like cloud of windy rain; And next, the dead in swaying wall; By old, hushed wharf, by croft and bam, The aching bugles fade and fall, The bu ules of tho Ma rue. |