AGAINST the shabby house I pass each day

(The town is strange, and all so new to see)

Pink hollyhocks made friendly sport of me,

With nod and smile and endless courtesy

Enlive the lonely sameness of my way.

Slim little maids in rosy morning frocks

They make a splash of color on the gray--

The sun so bright--a pity not to play,

But this old world is sadly work-a-day,

And I must hasten on, my hollyhocks!

I like to think that somewhere, overseas,

Perhaps in some neglected garden place,

Shy flowers from home lean out with wayward grace--

Blue iris and the valley lilies' lace--

Reminding them of happier times than these,...

Of happy times that are so soon to be,

When they come marching home to us--our men--

The world's work done, the land made clean again!