The early summer had clothed the waste land in fresh and living green.
Larks were singing gaily in the sunny sky.

No sound of shell or gun disturbed the whisper of the breeze as it passed over the sweet-smelling fields.

Even the trenches were filling up and Mother Nature was trying to hide the cruel wounds which the war had made upon her loving breast.

One could hardly recall the visions of gloom and darkness which had once shrouded that scene of battle.

In the healing process of time all mortal agonies, thank God, will be finally obliterated..