A Cross is slanting ‘tween two withered trees -
by Leon Gellert
I saw him first in peace, amid a crowd
Of streets, nor dreamed him ever one of these,
So wistfully he mused, so shyly proud,
So chalk-besmeared he walked his weary pace.
A space went, - and on an early day
Within the trench, I saw a half-known face
Awake with wonder; a child-lived heart at play
With dreamed romance: a Drake-keen eye ashine
For newer worlds……A thunder tore the line!…..
A shell burst!….. He smiled as Sidney smiled-
And fell…..There came the crying of a child,
…..A wave of little hands…..a soft breeze
The cross is slanting ‘tween two withered trees.