SECOND EDITION OF 150 COPIES

1921




WHERE THE SABOTS CLATTER AGAIN.



THE BRIDE OF NOYON.


A returning flush upon the plain. Streaks of color across a mangled
landscape: the gentle concealment of shell hole and trench. This is what
one saw, even in the summer of 1919. For the sap was running, and a new
invasion was occurring. Legions of tender blades pushed over the haggard
No Man's Land, while reckless poppies scattered through the ranks of
green, to be followed by the shyer starry sisters in blue and white.
Irrepressibly these floral throngs advanced over the shell torn spaces,
crowding, mingling and bending together in a rainbow riot beneath the
winds that blew them. They were the vanguard.

* * * * *

In the midst of the reviving fields lay Noyon: Noyon, that gem of the
Oise, whose delicate outline of spires and soft tinted roofs had graced
the wide valley for centuries. Today the little city lay blanched and