Agnes Lee

SUDDENLY bells and flags!

Suddenly—door to door—

Tidings! Can we believe,

We who were used to war?

Yet we have dreamed her face,

Knowing her light must be,

Knowing that she must come.

Look—she comes, it is she!

Tattered her raiment floats,

Blood is upon her wings.

Ah, but her eyes are clear!

Ah, but her voice outrings!

Look—she is here, she lives!

Beauty has died for her.

Soon where the shrapnel fell

Petals shall wake and stir.