ONLY A LETTER.

When you're looking tired and weary,
And you feel you can't be cheery,
And that from the dirty trench you cannot roam;
It's a sight to stir your heart,
Make all pain and care depart,
Is a letter from the dear old folks at home.

Maybe it is from your brother,
Or a doting grey-haired mother,
Or a sweetheart sends to you a welcome line;
How it sets you up with ease,
This message from o’er the seas,
Just to tell you that the folks at home are fine.

But there’s another side to tell,
And it doesn’t sound half  so well;
It seems to give your heart a sudden wrench,
When the mail is given out
And you find without a doubt
You're the only one forgotten in the trench.

In your throat a lump will rise,
And the tears start to your eyes,
And you wander why on earth they fail to write;
It makes you sick of work,
And may Allah help the Turk,
Who may bump you in the next fierce bayonet fight.

When the smiling faces meet you,
And the hearty laughter greets you,
As they all discuss the news from their home town,
It makes a man feel small,
That he’s not cared for at all,
And that no one cares a rap if he goes down.

So when you’ve got time to spare,
Let him know that you do care,
Just drop a line to him who bears the brunt.
It’s not a deal to ask
And ‘twill case his heavy task;
Remember! He waits your letter at the Front.

Private F. HULTON.
20th Batt. A. S. E., F.