POETRY

Lake County Press, Issue 2789, 12 June 1919, Page 2

POETRY

THE REVEILLE. In the Camp of the Borderers at Duddingston, Cold breaks the autumn morn O’er hill and loch and lea, O’er harvest fields forlorn And yon grey heaving sea. No more from bush and brake. Or from the blue on high, Tho feathered songsters wake, The land with melody. Far other music moves The heart to throb and thrill. And lifts from wonted grooves The sluggish mind, until Upborne on unseen wings. The quickened spirit feels The charm in common things. The fulness life reveals. Hark! on the tranquil air, Up from the lakelet’s marge,

Now silent, bleak, and bare. Whore misty forms loom large, The bugle’s stirring notes With pleasing cadence swell, As when the summons floats From some far convent bell. That call is not to prayer, That voice speaks not of peace. The clarion note is there That bids, without surcease, Tho land’s best sons arise Tho work of Mars to do. Till, ’neath Teutonic skies, Tho long stern task he through. Slav wo. whose ears receive That call at dawn of day, Whose wondering eyes perceive The training for the fray, Hold dear the khaki coat, Tho lads of Spartan life. Who from the nation’s throat Peat back tho Teuton knife. Duddingston. T. M