Item 01: Henry Weston Pryce diary, May 1916-ca. 1918 - Page 78
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[Page 78]
(From "Land & water")
On les Aura
Jaques Bon homme loquitur.
See you that stretch of shell torn mud spotted with pools of mire
Crossed by a burst abondoned trench and tortured strands of wire,
Where splintered pickets reel & sag & leprous trench rats play,
That scour the Devils Hunting Ground to seek their carion prey?
That is the field my father loved
The field that once was mine,
The land I nursed for my childs child as my fathers did lang syne.
See there - a mound of powered stones all flattened, smashed & torn,
Gone black with damp & green with slime - Ere you & I were born.