THE COMRADES

N solitary rooms, when dusk is falling,
I hear from fields beyond the haunted
mountains,
Beyond the unrepenetrable forests, —
I hear the voices of my comrades calling,
“Home! home! home!”

Strange ghostly voices, when the dusk is
falling,
Come from the ancient years; and I
remember
The schoolboy shout, from plain and
wood and river,
The signal-cry of scattered comrades, calling,
“Home! home! home!”
142