Birds on the Western Front 



Hushed is the shriek of hurtling shells, and hark ! 

 Somewhere within that bit of deep blue sky, 

 Grand in his loneliness, his ecstasy, 

 His lyric wild and free, carols a LARK. 



But, if only to show the variability of the 

 human temperament, I record the following 

 story of another British Tommy and a LARK : 

 After a day of terrific fighting, when the 

 bombardment ceased, there lay on the battle- 

 field some scores of our dead and wounded. 

 Of a sudden a LARK darted into the sky, 

 pouring forth his joyous lay. " What the 

 'ell is 'e singing about?" irritably asked a 

 prostrate Tommy (London Mail, 28.viii.i5). 



SWIFTS were quite fearless of the guns, and 

 their screams were strangely appropriate 

 when accompanied by the moan of a shell 

 (Country Life, 7 .x.i6, p. 399). They shrieked 

 overhead, while 15,000 feet above our shrapnel 

 was bursting round an enemy aeroplane 

 (Daily Mail, g.v.17). 



The call of the CUCKOO, so reminiscent of 

 the promise of spring, was eagerly awaited 

 by our fighting men, and on the Somme its 

 familiar note was heard whenever the almost 



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