II The Rue de la Paix — (A Street of Jewels)
The windows glow with many jewels, with rubies fire-entangled,
And glowing bits of emerald, and diamonds like the dew—
But, Paris, can you quite forget the bodies lying mangled
Beneath the snow on Flanders fields—your lost who call to you?).
The windows of each little shop are gay with gem-like laughter, With rings to fit milady’s hand, and drops to deck her ear; (But, Paris, can you quite forget Verdun, and Ypres, and—after? And, far beneath the sounds of mirth, one wonders what you hear.)
The windows glow with countless jewels, the shopgirls stop to wonder, The little shopgirls who are still, so many, dressed in black— (But, oh, the saddened hearts of them no doubt are lying under Some sandy stretch along the Marne, where grim defeat turned back!)
The windows gleam enticingly, and eyes light up to see them, For Paris thrills to loveliness, as Paris always thrilled— (Oh, God of beauty, touch the lives that war has crushed, and free them From broken dreams, an empty faith, and hopes forever stilled!)