Next Year

Up and down the street I know,
Now that there are Grief and War,
All day long the people go
As they went before;
But when now the lads go by–
Careless look and careless glance–
My heart wonders– "Which shall lie
Still next year in France?"
When the girls go fluttering–
Flushing cheek and tossing head–
My heart asks– "Next year shall bring
Which a lover dead?"
Lord, let peace be kind and fleet–
Put an end to Grief and War;
Let them walk the little street
Careless as before!