Philip Wood and Forrest Wing were friends, co-drivers, and each other’s poetry critics.
It paid off in November 1917, when the two were published in the American Field Service Bulletin.
THESE were the things they dreamed upon,
Chemin des Dames and Malmaison,
Victory and peace anon–
These things, their dreams!
But they are gone who strove the best–
Gone like the sunset from the west,
Sunk to the silences of rest,
Silent as dreams.
Theirs is the peace, the cold caress
Of death, and memories that bless
The valiant soul with loveliness–
And years for dreams!
October 23, 1917
LOVELY and fair you were in days of old,
A sentinel of peace to greet the dawn;
Basking under skies of blue and gold
Till twilight brought its dusky legions on.
But night with silver moon and stars agleam
Is where I glimpse you clearest in my dream.
Not long ago I climbed your shell-torn hill
And saw your ruins steeped in mud and rain,
Soaked in the blood of men white hot to kill,
A crumpled mass still quivering with pain;
While just beyond –the Boches with baleful breath
Sent screaming forth their messengers of death.
Ah, Malmaison, unhappy child of Fate!
From out your walls there comes a stifled moan;
Though you were long a slave to German hate–
Take heart–you are once more among your own;
As one of old who dreamed the world was free
You, too, have conquered in your Calvary.
FORREST B. WING,