THE SWING
Reading edition
The crooked swing that hung beneath The crooked willow tree Brought all his laughter to my ears When school was out at three. When later years and afternoons Their symphony had sung Beneath the crooked willow tree An idle swing had hung. Then war came on. There’s always war To readjust the past, And he got leave and I got leave, And home we came at last. But I alone return tonight And naught to battle bring, For he is dead beneath the tree And broken hangs the swing.