The soldiers pass at nightfall, A girl within each arm, And kisses quick and light fall On lips that take no harm. Lip language serves them better Who have no parts of speech: No syntax there to fetter The lore they love to teach. What waist would shun th' indenture Of such a gallant squeeze? What girl's heart not dare venture The hot-and-cold disease? Nay, let them do their service Before the lads depart! That hand goes where the curve is That billows o'er the heart. Who deems not how 'tis given, What knows he of its worth? 'Tis either fire of heaven Or earthiness of earth. And if the lips are fickle That kiss, they'll never know If tears begin to trickle Where they saw roses blow. "The girl I left behind me," He'll sing, nor hear her moan, "The tears they come to blind me As I sit here alone." What else had you to offer, Poor spendthrift of the town? Lay out your unlockt coffer-- The Lord will know His own. The Great End By Arnold Bennett. Fear that the British Government in its discussion of peace terms with Germany might defer to the policy of France and Russia of keeping important negotiations secret inspired the writing of this article, which appeared in The London Daily News of April 1, 1915, and is here published by the author's permission. Mr. Bennett points out that despite her alliance Great Britain is essentially a democracy subject to the mandates of her people.