First World War Poetry Digital Archive



Down the long white road we walked together Down between the grey hills and the heather, Where the tawny-crested Plover cries.

You seemed all brown and soft, just like a linnet, Your errant hair had shadowed sunbeams in it, And there shone all April In your eyes.

With your golden voice of tears and laughter Softened into song 'Does aught come after Life,' you asked 'When life is Laboured through?

What is God and all for which we're striving?' 'Sweetest sceptic, we were born for living; Life is Love, and Love is--- You, dear, you.'

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