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A Scout in Flanders by H.E.

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

Poets and poems of the first World War.

Discover poetry and its writers to help you commemorate Remembrance Day.