Show ARRAS ARRAB MORTE POUR LA PAT RIB Walk softly in this tortured tilled brick-tilled street The shadowy corners of each ah shattered stair Once echoed to the fall rn of eager feet feet- A home was there Grim ruin that the laughing sunbeams sunbeam mock Where the once furtive rat pia plays his hI bold part The splintered door hangs hang swaying on onIta Its Ita lock So 80 like a a. broken heart hearL B Be pitiful before belore each house houn forlorn Some Borne womans woman's all w wu wa-s u shattered by these bythel walls wails Where now upon the wind of ot every morn The voice of or martyrs calls calla In yonder church she knelt upon the floor The raised Host set her genUs gentle heart astir And fallen Callen bells bella that swung above the thedoor thedoor thedoor door Sang their clear notes to h her r. r Be tender to the pain which left us ua free tree Our English soil felt not the tha Invading tread But swept tr-swept w France from to tho sea Ta r. filled with dead Poetry Review London |