A Scout in Flanders by H.E.

Now, while eternal shells
Are screaming overhead,
And frozen mud – and worse,
Is all I have for bed,
A kind of moving picture show
Goes floating through my head.

I see a bare-kneed boy,
Light-hearted, gay and free,
In shorts and broad brimmed hat,
Encamped beside the sea:
Who’d think to see me now,
That I was ever he!

And then I see bright walls
Gleaming in firelight glow,
And shouts of boyish mirth
Come o’er the Flanders snow.
Once more I’m in the club-room with
My pals of long ago.

And when these pictures fade,
I see a future day –
Myself a Scout again,
Leading at work and play –
Leading a Troop, my very own,
On in the good old way.

Published in the Headquarters Gazette, February 1918