A Lark above the Trenches

Hushed is the shriek of hurtling shells : and hark !
Somewhere within that bit of soft blue sky—
Grand in his loneliness, his ecstasy,
His lyric wild and free—carols a lark.

I in the trench, he lost in heaven afar,
I dream of Love, its ecstasy he sings ;
Doth lure my soul to love till like a star
It flashes into Life : O tireless wings
That beat love's message into melody—
A song that touches in this place remote
Gladness supreme in its undying note
And stirs to life the soul of memory—
'Tis strange that while you're beating into life
Men here below are plunged in sanguine strife !

France, 1916.