<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">A Little Town in Senegal </h1><p class="byline"> WILL THOMPSON <br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/><span class="smallcaps">IN Everybody's Magazine</span><br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/>Permission reproduce in this book</p><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I HEAR the throbbing music down the lanes of Afric rain:</p><p class="line">The Afric spring is breaking, down in Senegal again.</p><p class="line">O little town in Senegal, amid the clustered gums,</p><p class="line">Where are your sturdy village lads, who one time danced to drums?</p><p class="line">At Soissons, by a fountain wall, they sang their melodies;</p><p class="line">And some now lie in Flemish fields, beside the northern seas;</p><p class="line">And some tonight are camped and still, along the Marne and Aisne;</p><p class="line">And some are dreaming of the palms that bend in Afric rain.</p><p class="line">The music of the barracks half awakes them from their dream;</p><p class="line">They smile and sink back sleepily along the Flemish stream.</p><p class="line">They dream the baobab's white buds have opened overnight;</p><p class="line">Thev dream they see the solemn cranes that bask in morning light.</p><p class="line">I hear the great drums beating in the square across the plain.</p><p class="line">Where are the tillers of the soil, the gallant, loyal train? </p><p class="line">O little town in Senegal, amid the white--bud trees,</p><p class="line">At Soissons, in Picardv, went north the last of these!</p></div></body></html> · Great War