This page has already been transcribed. You can find new pages to transcribe here.

Transcription

[Page 61]

(38)
blade and bloom and fruit.
The vile rat is here in his hundreds.
All these enemies of man have, with the license of freedom, built up little armies of their own.
The slow moving snail is here creeping over damp fragments of ruin and old garden walls. His beautifully voluted shell appears a burden.
A search amongst the rubbish of wreck at the root of the weeds and grasses and flowers may reveal many little things which are mute evidence of tragedy and romance.
An idle wanderer through the stricken town might look, and find as I have, a pair of childrens shoes, or an old wooden clog, or perhaps

Current Status: 
Completed