4 NOVEMBER 1916, Page 27



Waxer first I saw you in the curious street, Like some platoon of soldier ghosts in grey, My mad impulse was all to smite and slay, To spit upon you—tread you 'math my feet.

But when I saw how each sad soul did greet My gaze with no sign of defiant frown, How from tired eyes looked spirits broken down, How each face showed the pale flag of defeat, And doubt, despair, and disillusionment, And how were grievous wounds on many a head, And on your garb red-faced was other red ; And how you stooped as men whose strength was spent, I knew that we had suffered each as other, And could have grasped your hand and cried, " My brother" I Joseen LEE, Sergt. The Black Watch.