Beneath a willow weeps a girl,
All hidden by green fronds that furl
And stretch and wave and fondly curl
Upon the stream.
The tree\'s her oyster; she the pearl
Cannot be seen.
Amongst the water, leaves and birds
She whispers woe and wistful words.
Between gasped breath she steely girds
A crumpled heart.
Swift flowing love she stops and curbs
Now he must part.
For mud and trench her boy must leave;
To march in mires and manly heave
The bayonets that stab and cleave
A gaping gash.
Grass fields will bleed a sticky weave
of blood and ash.
If this first war takes love away,
Inside the Willow she will stay;
Amidst the branches she will sway
Until she dies.
Unless all leading men cease play
With losing lies.
Beneath the willow pearls are lost;
The green fronds hang with hoary frost.
The weeping tree and girl are tossed
By winter winds.
A battle ground by ice is glossed;
And no one wins.