The Comrades

And home we wended when the dusk was
falling ;
The pledged companions, talking, laugh-
ing, singing ;
Home through the grey French country,
no one missing.
And now I hear the old-time voices calling,
“Home! home! home!”

I pause and listen while the dusk is falling ;
My heart leaps back through all the
long estrangement
Of changing faith, lost hopes, paths dis-
enchanted ;
And tears drop as I hear the voices calling,
“Home! home! home!”

I hear you while the dolorous dusk is falling ;
I sigh your names—the living — the
departed !
O vanished comrades, is it yours the
poignant
Pathetic note among the voices calling,
“Home, home, home’?

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