In Preston Park there is a tank.
Relic of the Battle of Cambrai.
Its rusty treads loom over,
Threatening.
I play with Army buttons,
Unwind some tattered puttees.
On corners of the shopping streets
The blind and maimed
Are selling matches.
Some veterans march.
A brass band plays
Sussex by the sea,
And Mother sighs and says
Before the Marne,
Before the Somme,
She watched the boys in khaki
March away.
By Irene Snatt.
