WAR-HORSES 



Bv G. M. JEVDU'IXE 



lA/E combed you out from happy silences 

 "" On thymey downs ; 



From stream-veined meadowlands alight with croivns 

 Of buttercups, where, for you, shapely trees 

 Made spacious canopies. 



Now {day and night) unsheltered, i)i the mud 



You droop and ache ; 

 While ruthless hands, for liunuin purpose' sake. 

 Fashion the complex tools 'a'liicJi spill vour blood 



And ours in rising flood. 



No deputation {yet) your wage controls. 



Ungaitged, unpaid 

 Your overtime. The 'war blast leaves no blade 

 Of green for you — poor ghosts of happy foals ! — 



Munching your minished doles 

 In ravages by human frenzy made. 



