The Connaught Rangers

I SAW the Connaught Rangers when they were passing by,

On a spring day, a good day, with gold rifts in the sky.

Themselves were marching steadily along the Liffey quay

An' I see the young proud look of them as if it were to-day!

The bright lads, the right lads, I have them in my mind,

With the green flags on their bayonets all fluttering in the wind.

A last look at old Ireland, a last good-bye maybe,

Then the gray sea, the wide sea, my grief upon the sea!

And when will they come home, says I, when will they see once more

The dear blue hills of Wicklow and Wexford's dim gray shore?

The brave lads of Ireland, no better lads you'll find,

With the green flags on their bayonets all fluttering in the wind!

Three years have passed since that spring day, sad years for them and me.

Green graves there are in Serbia and in Gallipoli.

And many who went by that day along the muddy street

Will never hear the roadway ring to their triumphant feet.

But when they march before Him, God's welcome will be kind,

And the green flags on their bayonets will flutter in the wind.

Winifred Mary Letts

The Spires of Oxford

(Seen from the train)

I SAW the spires of Oxford

As I was passing by,

The gray spires of Oxford

Against a pearl-gray sky,

My heart was with the Oxford men

Who went abroad to die.

The years go fast in Oxford

The golden years and gay,

The hoary Colleges look down

On careless boys at play.

But when the bugles sounded war

They put their games away.

They left the peaceful river,

The cricket field, the quad,

The shaven lawns of Oxford

To seek a bloody sod--

They gave their merry youth away

For country and for God.

God rest you, happy gentlemen,

Who laid your good lives down,

Who took the khaki and the gun

Instead of cap and gown.

God bring you to a fairer place

Than even Oxford town.

Winifred Mary Letts