Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. The Book of New York Verse. 1917.
On Sick Leave, 1916Hamilton Fish Armstrong
H
And through the dazzling shaft of rainbow-air
That blew from where the busy fountain leaped.
For him within that vision-laden cloud
There were no peaceful hills, no valleys loud
With streams, no fields in honeysuckle steeped.
Valleys there were, where biting guns awoke
Echoes that died amid the eternal din—
Broad honeysuckle-bordered fields there were,
Stamped down by passing troops,—and in the air
That smell which only is where war has been.