Song-Books Of The War

In fifty years, when peace outshines     Remembrance of the battle lines,     Adventurous lads will sigh and cast     Proud looks upon the plundered past.     On summer morn or winter's night,     Their hearts will kindle for the fight,     Reading a snatch of soldier-song,     Savage and jaunty, fierce and strong;     And through the angry marching rhymes     Of blind regret and haggard mirth,     They'll envy us the dazzling times     When sacrifice absolved our earth.     Some ancient man with silver locks     Will lift his weary face to say:     "War was a fiend who stopped our clocks     Although we met him grim and gay."     And then he'll speak of Haig's last drive,     Marvelling that any came alive     Out of the shambles that men built     And smashed, to cleanse the world of guilt.     But the boys, with grin and sidelong glance,     Will think, "Poor grandad's day is done."     And dream of those who fought in France     And lived in time to share the fun.