The Lark Above The Trenches - Muriel Elsie Graham

All day the guns had worked their hellish will,
And all night long
With sobbing breath men gasped their lives away,
Or shivered restless on the ice-cold clay,
Till morn broke pale and chill
With sudden song.

Above the sterile furrows war had ploughed
With deep-trenched seams,
Wherein this year such bitter seed is sown,
Wherein this year no fruitful grain is strewn,
A lark poured from the cloud
Its throbbing dreams.

It sang - and pain and death were passing shows -
So glad and strong;
Life soared triumphant, though a myriad men
Were swept like leaves beyond the living's ken,
That wounded hope arose
To greet that song.

Muriel Elsie Graham