If the reader
did not feel that he lacks the background which only the
contemplation a million times repeated of concrete details can
create, he would be tempted to marvel at the extraordinary
simplicity of these views. But a good judge who was very near
the General until a wound removed him for a while from the--to
him--fascinating scene tells me that this simplicity and
directness--which marked the action of Foch at the battle of
the Marne as they formerly marked his teaching--are the
perfection to which only a few can aspire.
THE UNREMEMBERED DEAD
By ELLA A. FANNING.
"For those who die in war, and have none to pray for
them."--Litany.
We lay a wreath of laurel on the sward,
Where rest our loved ones in a deep repose
Unvexed by dreams of any earthly care,
And, checking not our tears, we breathe a prayer,
Grateful for even the comfort which is ours--
That we may kneel and sob our sorrow there,
And place the deathless leaf, the rarest flowers.
Though Winter's cruel fingers brown the sod,
It's dearer far than all the world beside!
Forms live again--we gaze in love and pride
On youthful faces prest close to our own.
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