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[Page 34]

(11)
in their sap
Under such merciless hail of bombing iron and lead and the lash of fire. Their mantles of last summer's green had been torn to shreds till autumn had only poor remnants left for her magic transformation to browns and reds and gold.
And now for this new summer which has come to them with almost peace, there is little left
Yet how wonderful is the hope of life.
Nature has clothed the poor wounded bodies and the broken extended arms in fresh green again. Rags and tatters of green. Yes, but fresh budded, and green for all that. New woven from her looms of season mystery as before: and

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