The poem was a short , poignant little thing . In a month it had carried Walter 's name to every corner of the globe . Everywhere it was copied -- in metropolitan dailies and little village weeklies -- in profound reviews and `` agony columns , '' in Red Cross appeals and Government recruiting propaganda . Mothers and sisters wept over it , young lads thrilled to it , the whole great heart of humanity caught it up as an epitome of all the pain and hope and pity and purpose of the mighty conflict , crystallized in three brief immortal verses . A Canadian lad in the Flanders trenches had written the one great poem of the war . `` The Piper , '' by Pte. . Walter Blythe , was a classic from its first printing . Rilla copied it in her diary at the beginning of an entry in which she poured out the story of the hard week that had just passed . `` It has been such a dreadful week , '' she wrote , `` and even though it is over and we know that it was all a mistake that does not seem to do away with the bruises left by it . And yet it has in some ways been a very wonderful week and I have had some glimpses of things I never realized before -- of how fine and brave people can be even in the midst of horrible suffering . I am sure I could never be as splendid as Miss Oliver was . `` Just a week ago today she had a letter from Mr. Grant 's mother in Charlottetown . And it told her that a cable had just come saying that Major Robert Grant had been killed in action a few days before . `` Oh , poor Gertrude ! At first she was crushed . Then after just a day she pulled herself together and went back to her school . She did not cry -- I never saw her shed a tear -- but oh , her face and her eyes ! '' ' I must go on with my work , ' she said . ` That is my duty just now . ' `` I could never have risen to such a height .
`` She never spoke bitterly except once , when Susan said something about spring being here XXXXX last , and Gertrude said , '' ` Can the spring really come this year ? '
after ago as at by from of over that to