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SO I SIT and write and ponder, while the house is deaf and dumb, Seeing visions “over yonder” of the war I know must come. In the corner—not a vision—but a sign for coming days, Stand a box of ammunition and a rifle in green baize. And in this, the living present, let the word go through the land, Every tradesman, clerk and peasant should have these two things at hand.
No—no ranting song is needed, and no meeting, flag or fuss |