Cross Roads

SONGS FROM FRANCE

     SCARS

     Summer sweeps, like sad laughter, over France,
        Touching the fields with flower-tinted mirth;
        Bringing its wistful gladness to an earth
     That has been stabbed with sorrow's bitter lance;
     Bringing again the hint of old romance,
        Bringing again the magic of re-birth;
        Paying again the price that youth was worth—
     OVER DIM WAYSIDE MOUNDS THE GRASSES DANCE!

     Where there were shell holes summer sends, un-
           heeding,
        Blossoms to deck the broken country side;
     Where, in another season, heroes, bleeding,
        Fell for the cause of righteousness, and died,
     Green creeper twines its vivid arms, half-pleading,
        But there are scars that summer cannot hide!