SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE LE ROY C. HENDERSON

SHE stands alone beside the gate, Where oft with him she stood before, And seems to hear his voice relate Life’s sweetest story o’er and o’er; A hand she feels upon her own, Unconsciously a tender glance She gives, then starts and stands alone, The lover sleeps—Somewhere in France. She could have kept him if she would— His heart and soul were all her own— But true love knew and understood That Honor is its own true throne; She heard the bugles’ blaring sound And whispered—“Go and take your chance.” There ’mid the scenes of war he found Eternal peace—Somewhere in France. She knows not where that spot may be— On barren plain, in hidden dell, On wooded hill, beside the sea— The lips that would will never tell; She knows not what his last words were, The thoughts that come with Death’s advance, And yet, she feels they were of her, Those last fond thoughts—Somewhere in France.