Produced by Al Haines PICTURE-SHOW BY SIEGFRIED SASSOON AUTHOR OF "THE OLD HUNTSMAN," "COUNTER-ATTACK," ETC. NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 681 FIFTH AVENUE COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY _All Rights Reserved_ Printed in the United States of America TO JOHN MASEFIELD CONTENTS PICTURE-SHOW RECONCILIATION CONCERT PARTY NIGHT ON THE CONVOY THE DUG-OUT BATTALION-RELIEF IN AN UNDERGROUND DRESSING STATION I STOOD WITH THE DEAD MEMORIAL TABLET ATROCITIES TO LEONIDE MASSINE MEMORY TO A VERY WISE MAN EARLY CHRONOLOGY ELEGY MIRACLES THE GOLDSMITH DEVOTION TO DUTY ANCIENT HISTORY SPORTING ACQUAINTANCES WHAT THE CAPTAIN SAID AT THE POINT-TO-POINT CINEMA HERO FANCY DRESS MIDDLE-AGES THE PORTRAIT BUTTERFLIES WRAITHS PHANTOM THE DARK HOUSE IDYLL PARTED LOVERS SLUMBER-SONG THE IMPERFECT LOVER VISION TO A CHILDLESS WOMAN AFTERMATH FALLING ASLEEP PRELUDE TO AN UNWRITTEN MASTERPIECE LIMITATIONS EVERYONE SANG PICTURE-SHOW PICTURE-SHOW And still they come and go: and this is all I know-- That from the gloom I watch an endless picture-show, Where wild or listless faces flicker on their way, With glad or grievous hearts I'll never understand Because Time spins so fast, and they've no time to stay Beyond the moment's gesture of a lifted hand. And still, between the shadow and the blinding flame, The brave despair of men flings onward, ever the same As in those doom-lit years that wait them, and have been... And life is just the picture dancing on a screen. RECONCILIATION When you are standing at your hero's grave, Or near some homeless village where he died, Remember, through your heart's rekindling pride, The German soldiers who were loyal and brave. Men fought like brutes; and hideous things were done; And you have nourished hatred, harsh and blind. But in that Golgotha perhaps you'll find The mothers of the men who killed your son. _November, 1918._ CONCERT PARTY (EGYPTIAN BASE CAMP) They are gathering round... Out of the twilight; over the grey-blue sand, Shoals of low-jargoning men drift inward to the sound-- The jangle and throb of a piano ... tum-ti-tum... Drawn by a lamp, they come Out of the glimmering lines of their tents, over the shuffling sand. O sing us the songs, the songs of our own land, You warbling ladies in white. Dimness conceals the hunger in our faces, This wall of faces risen out of the night, These eyes that keep their memories of the places So long beyond their sight.