Grey SmokeF.R. CROZIER
Grey SmokeF.R. CROZIER
Grey Smoke
F.R. CROZIER
Old pipe! old comrade! friend o’ mine,Have I then made you sad? Or is it justThat you and I’ve been drinking wine,Embittered by this dull grey day; or mustIt be that you too knowThat smoke and hopes “grey” both may go?Grey smoke of yours, grey thoughts o’ mine,Seem strangely both in one accord to-day.Perhaps it is that croon-song of the pine,Recalling memories dear and far away—Or is it that this grey day’s mystic spellForetells the end of hope and smoke in Hell?Ah, no! old pipe, methinks this grey day cameTo temper such as you and I to standThe small and weary problems of life’s game,And learn to cheer another one, whose handHas groped in vain, and vainly gropesFor better things than grey-like smoke and greyer hopes.R. G. N., 11th Aust. A.S.C.
Old pipe! old comrade! friend o’ mine,Have I then made you sad? Or is it justThat you and I’ve been drinking wine,Embittered by this dull grey day; or mustIt be that you too knowThat smoke and hopes “grey” both may go?Grey smoke of yours, grey thoughts o’ mine,Seem strangely both in one accord to-day.Perhaps it is that croon-song of the pine,Recalling memories dear and far away—Or is it that this grey day’s mystic spellForetells the end of hope and smoke in Hell?Ah, no! old pipe, methinks this grey day cameTo temper such as you and I to standThe small and weary problems of life’s game,And learn to cheer another one, whose handHas groped in vain, and vainly gropesFor better things than grey-like smoke and greyer hopes.R. G. N., 11th Aust. A.S.C.
Old pipe! old comrade! friend o’ mine,Have I then made you sad? Or is it justThat you and I’ve been drinking wine,Embittered by this dull grey day; or mustIt be that you too knowThat smoke and hopes “grey” both may go?
Old pipe! old comrade! friend o’ mine,
Have I then made you sad? Or is it just
That you and I’ve been drinking wine,
Embittered by this dull grey day; or must
It be that you too know
That smoke and hopes “grey” both may go?
Grey smoke of yours, grey thoughts o’ mine,Seem strangely both in one accord to-day.Perhaps it is that croon-song of the pine,Recalling memories dear and far away—Or is it that this grey day’s mystic spellForetells the end of hope and smoke in Hell?
Grey smoke of yours, grey thoughts o’ mine,
Seem strangely both in one accord to-day.
Perhaps it is that croon-song of the pine,
Recalling memories dear and far away—
Or is it that this grey day’s mystic spell
Foretells the end of hope and smoke in Hell?
Ah, no! old pipe, methinks this grey day cameTo temper such as you and I to standThe small and weary problems of life’s game,And learn to cheer another one, whose handHas groped in vain, and vainly gropesFor better things than grey-like smoke and greyer hopes.
Ah, no! old pipe, methinks this grey day came
To temper such as you and I to stand
The small and weary problems of life’s game,
And learn to cheer another one, whose hand
Has groped in vain, and vainly gropes
For better things than grey-like smoke and greyer hopes.
R. G. N., 11th Aust. A.S.C.
R. G. N., 11th Aust. A.S.C.