<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Refugees</h1><p class="byline"> W. G. S. <br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/><span class="smallcaps">IN The London Spectator</span></p><div class="stanza"><p class="line">PAST the marching men, where the great road runs, </p><p class="line">Out of burning Ypres the pale women came: </p><p class="line">One was a widow (listen to the guns!)--</p><p class="line">She wheeled a heaped--up barrow. One walked lame </p><p class="line">And dragged two little children at her side </p><p class="line">Tired and coughing with the dust. </p><p class="line" style="text-indent:4%">The third </p><p class="line">Nestled a dead child on her breast and tried </p><p class="line">To suckle him. They never spoke a word.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">So they came down along the Ypres road. </p><p class="line">A soldier stayed his mirth to watch them pass, </p><p class="line">Turned and in silence helped them with their load, </p><p class="line">And led them to a field and gave them bread. </p><p class="line">I saw them hide their faces in the grass </p><p class="line">And cry, as women might when Christ was dead. </p></div></body></html> · Great War