Transports

written by


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  Behind us lay the homely shore
  With youthful memories aureoled;
  A sky of dazzling blue before,
  We sailed a sea of molten gold.

  To our old haven we return;
  By smoky hills as grey as mud
  We see the sullen sunset burn
  Malignant on a lake of blood.

  Yes, we return: but memory roams
  A foul, bleak age of pain that yields
  The smoke and flame of ruined homes,
  The muck of cannon-pitted fields.

© John Le Gay Brereton