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[Page 115]

The Jungle

O'er the Dark Land where Death  is Lord & warden
Where caste and creed and color  blend to hate
Proudly and coldly now the  wan moon sails.
A myriad stars review us
Oh God! if prayer of ours for us avail
Cover the eyes of these old friends who knew us
When we were children playing in  May Garden
Nor thought beyond the Gate.

The Guns roar:   Burns the sky with malice;
And night is drunk with noise!
Each on their side has wealth of worlds to spill.

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