<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">Salonika in November</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">UP above the grey hills the wheeling birds are</p><p class="line">calling.</p><p class="line">Round about the cold grey hills in never-resting</p><p class="line">flight;</p><p class="line">Far along the marshes a drifting mist is falling.</p><p class="line">Scattered tents and sandy plain melt into the</p><p class="line">night.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Round about the grey hills rumbles distant thunder,</p><p class="line">Echoes of the mighty guns firing night and day,—</p><p class="line">Grey guns, long guns, that smite the hills asunder.</p><p class="line">Grumbling and rumbling, and telling of the fray.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Out among the islands twinkling lights are glowing,</p><p class="line">Distant little fairy lights, that gleam upon the</p><p class="line">bay;</p><p class="line">All along the broken road grey transport waggons</p><p class="line">going</p><p class="line">Up to where the long grey guns roar and crash</p><p class="line">alway.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Up above the cold grey hills the wheeling birds are</p><p class="line">crying.</p><p class="line">Brother calls to brother, as they pass in restless</p><p class="line">flight.</p><p class="line">Lost souls, dead souls, voices of the dying.</p><p class="line">Circle o'er the hills of Greece and wail into the</p><p class="line">night.</p></div></body></html> · Great War