⁠In softly falling snow,
It came to him—the carol—
⁠Out of the long ago.
He heard the glorious organ
⁠Fill transept, loft and nave.
He faintly heard the pulpit words:
⁠"Himself he could not save."

And all the wires in No-man's-land
⁠Seemed thrummed by ghostly thumbs;
There woke then such a harping
⁠As when a hero comes,
As when a hero homeward comes—
⁠And then his thought was back:
He leaned against the parapet
⁠And peered into the black.