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Verses of a V. A. D.

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <hr class="full" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/cover.jpg" width-obs="314" height-obs="500" alt="" title="" /></div> <p class="cb">VERSES OF A V.A.D.</p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_004" id="page_004"></SPAN>{4}</span></p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_005" id="page_005"></SPAN>{5}</span></p> <h1> VERSES OF A V.A.D</h1> <p class="c"><small>BY</small><br/> VERA   M.   BRITTAIN <br/> (V.A.D. <span class="smcap">London</span>/268, B.R.C.S.)<br/> <br/><br/> <span class="smcap">Foreword by MARIE CONNOR LEIGHTON</span><br/> <br/><br/> ERSKINE MACDONALD, LTD.<br/> LONDON, W.C.1<br/> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_006" id="page_006"></SPAN>{6}</span><br/> <i>All Rights Reserved</i><br/> <i>First published August 1918</i><br/></p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_007" id="page_007"></SPAN>{7}</span>  </p> <p class="cb"> DEDICATED<br/> <br/> TO THE MEMORY OF<br/> <br/> <big>ROLAND   AUBREY   LEIGHTON</big><br/> <br/> <span class="smcap">Lieutenant, Worcestershire Regiment</span><br/> <br/> <small>DIED OF WOUNDS NEAR HÉBUTERNE</small><br/> <br/> <span class="smcap">December 23rd, 1915</span><br/></p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">“Good-bye, sweet friend. What matters it that you<br/></span> <span class="i1">Have found Love’s death in joy, and I in sorrow?<br/></span> <span class="i1">For hand in hand, just as we used to do,<br/></span> <span class="i1">We two shall live our passionate poem through<br/></span> <span class="i1">On God’s serene to-morrow.”<br/></span> <span class="i8">R. A. L.<br/></span></div> </div></div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_008" id="page_008"></SPAN>{8}</span>  </p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_009" id="page_009"></SPAN>{9}</span></p> <h2><SPAN name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></SPAN>FOREWORD</h2> <p class="nind"><span class="smcap">These</span> poems, by a writer for whom I have literary hopes, belong very clearly to that new and vigorous type of poetry which has sprung from the stress of the last few years and has its root in things done and suffered rather than in things merely imagined.</p> <p>Until lately our very belief in the saying that the poet is born and not made proved that we had completely accepted poetry as coming only from within, spun, as it were, out of our inner consciousness, and either quite unhelped, or else only partially helped, by active experiences from without. We have always understood, of course, that such an experience as, for instance, the sudden flashing upon us of a magnetic face as a stranger passes in the street might set aglow a train of thought that would quicken and melt into feeling, and the feeling would, in turn, need—and find—expression in poetry.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_010" id="page_010"></SPAN>{10}</span></p> <p>So far as this we have admitted that outward occurrences in the course of our quickly flying days can become a source of poetical inspiration. But, in spite of the pointing finger of Kipling, most of us clung desperately to the verse that had its sole origin in imaginative emotion until the blaze of war in the world illumined our souls and showed all of us that out of our simplest practical work can be struck sparks of real and great and rare divine fire.</p> <p>All the poems in this little book are the outcome of things very deeply felt. It is very difficult for me to write of them because where there is pain uttered in them, it has almost always been my pain as well as the author’s. One or two of the sonnets condense the expression of losses that have meant a life’s upheaval. One or two, again, are practically a concrete record of simple human things observed and suffered and of duty strenuously done. Here there is no leisured dreaming, but sheer experience, solid and stored up, like the honey that a bee’s labour has stored.</p> <p>But this practical quality, while it has so much that makes it rich and valuable, has also the one conspicuous disadvantage that the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_011" id="page_011"></SPAN>{11}</span> work is often done under conditions of strain and turmoil that tell against perfection of method. Some of these <i>Verses of a V.A.D.</i> were written in almost breathless intervals of severe and devoted duty. The poem entitled “The German Ward” is especially an example of this. In such circumstances, it is difficult to achieve any literary ornamentation and least of all that particular kind of simpleness which is the highest form of finished art. In the case of several of the poems, both these qualities have been achieved; yet, because of the difficulties, I make an appeal for considerateness and tender sympathy in judging these first shy flowers of the heart and mind of a young girl who has worked unceasingly and self-forgettingly for the good of others since the days of stress began, and who in her personal destiny has suffered as, I hope, very few have suffered.</p> <p class="r"> <span class="smcap">Marie Connor Leighton.</span></p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_012" id="page_012"></SPAN>{12}</span>  </p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_013" id="page_013"></SPAN>{13}</span></p> <h2><SPAN name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></SPAN>CONTENTS</h2> <table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> <tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#AUGUST_1914"><span class="smcap">August 1914</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_015">15</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#ST_PANCRAS_STATION_AUGUST_1915"><span class="smcap">St. Pancras Station, August 1915</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_016">16</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#TO_A_FALLEN_IDOL"><span class="smcap">To a Fallen Idol</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_017">17</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#TO_MONSEIGNEUR"><span class="smcap">To Monseigneur</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_018">18</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_ONLY_SON"><span class="smcap">The Only Son</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_019">19</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#PERHAPS"><span class="smcap">Perhaps——</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_020">20</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#A_MILITARY_HOSPITAL"><span class="smcap">A Military Hospital</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_021">21</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#LOOKING_WESTWARD"><span class="smcap">Looking Westward</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_022">22</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THEN_AND_NOW"><span class="smcap">Then and Now</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_024">24</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#MAY_MORNING"><span class="smcap">May Morning</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_025">25</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_TWO_TRAVELLERS"><span class="smcap">The Two Travellers</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_027">27</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#ROUNDEL"><span class="smcap">Roundel</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_028">28</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_SISTERS_BURIED_AT_LEMNOS"><span class="smcap">The Sisters buried at Lemnos</span></SPAN></td><td><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_014" id="page_014"></SPAN>{14}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_029">29</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#IN_MEMORIAM_GRYT"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam: G.R.Y.T.</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_031">31</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#A_PARTING_WORD"><span class="smcap">A Parting Word</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_032">32</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#TO_MY_BROTHER"><span class="smcap">To My Brother</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_033">33</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#SIC_TRANSIT"><span class="smcap">Sic Transit——</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_034">34</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#TO_THEM"><span class="smcap">To Them</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_035">35</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#OXFORD_REVISITED"><span class="smcap">Oxford revisited</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_036">36</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THAT_WHICH_REMAINETH"><span class="smcap">That which Remaineth</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_037">37</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_GERMAN_WARD"><span class="smcap">The German Ward</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_038">38</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_TROOP-TRAIN"><span class="smcap">The Troop-train</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_040">40</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#TO_MY_WARD-SISTER"><span class="smcap">To my Ward-sister</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_041">41</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#TO_ANOTHER_SISTER"><span class="smcap">To another Sister</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_042">42</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#VENGEANCE_IS_MINE"><span class="smcap">“Vengeance is Mine”</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_043">43</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#WAR"><span class="smcap">War</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_044">44</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_LAST_POST"><span class="smcap">The Last Post</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_045">45</SPAN></td></tr> <tr><td><SPAN href="#THE_ASPIRANT"><span class="smcap">The Aspirant</span></SPAN></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><SPAN href="#page_046">46</SPAN></td></tr> </table> <p>Acknowledgments are due to the Editor of <i>The Oxford Magazine</i>, in which “May Morning” and “The Sisters buried at Lemnos” were first published.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_015" id="page_015"></SPAN>{15}</span></p> <h2><SPAN name="AUGUST_1914" id="AUGUST_1914"></SPAN>AUGUST 1914</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">God</span> said, “Men have forgotten Me;<br/></span> <span class="i2">The souls that sleep shall wake again,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And blinded eyes must learn to see.”<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">So since redemption comes through pain<br/></span> <span class="i2">He smote the earth with chastening rod,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And brought Destruction’s lurid reign;<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">But where His desolation trod<br/></span> <span class="i2">The people in their agony<br/></span> <span class="i0">Despairing cried, “There is no God.”<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Somerville College</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oxford</span>.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_016" id="page_016"></SPAN>{16}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="ST_PANCRAS_STATION_AUGUST_1915" id="ST_PANCRAS_STATION_AUGUST_1915"></SPAN>ST. PANCRAS STATION, AUGUST 1915</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One</span> long, sweet kiss pressed close upon my lips,<br/></span> <span class="i2">One moment’s rest on your swift-beating heart,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And all was over, for the hour had come<br/></span> <span class="i8">For us to part.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">A sudden forward motion of the train,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The world grown dark although the sun still shone,<br/></span> <span class="i0">One last blurred look through aching tear-dimmed eyes—<br/></span> <span class="i8">And you were gone.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_017" id="page_017"></SPAN>{17}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="TO_A_FALLEN_IDOL" id="TO_A_FALLEN_IDOL"></SPAN>TO A FALLEN IDOL</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O you</span> who sought to rend the stars from Heaven<br/></span> <span class="i2">But rent instead your too-ambitious heart,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Know that with those to whom Love’s joy is given<br/></span> <span class="i2">You have not, nor can ever have, a part.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">A nation’s loyalty might have been your glory,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And men have blessed your name from shore to shore,<br/></span> <span class="i0">But you have set the seal upon your story,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And must go hence, alone for evermore.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_018" id="page_018"></SPAN>{18}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="TO_MONSEIGNEUR" id="TO_MONSEIGNEUR"></SPAN>TO MONSEIGNEUR</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">R.A.L., Lieutenant, Worcesters</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">None</span> shall dispute Your kingship, nor declare<br/></span> <span class="i2">Another could have held the place You hold,<br/></span> <span class="i2">For though he brought me finer gifts than gold,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And laid before my feet his heart made bare<br/></span> <span class="i0">Of all but love for me, and sighed despair<br/></span> <span class="i2">If I but feigned my favours to withhold,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And would repudiate as sadly cold<br/></span> <span class="i0">The proud and lofty manner that You wear,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">He would not be my pure and stainless knight<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of heart without reproach or hint of fear,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Who walks unscathed amid War’s sordid ways<br/></span> <span class="i0">By base desire or bloodshed’s grim delight,<br/></span> <span class="i2">But ever holds his hero’s honour dear—<br/></span> <span class="i0">Roland of Roncesvalles in modern days.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i4"><i>November 1915.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_019" id="page_019"></SPAN>{19}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_ONLY_SON" id="THE_ONLY_SON"></SPAN>THE ONLY SON</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> storm beats loud, and you are far away,<br/></span> <span class="i5">The night is wild,<br/></span> <span class="i0">On distant fields of battle breaks the day,<br/></span> <span class="i5">My little child?<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I sought to shield you from the least of ills<br/></span> <span class="i5">In bygone years,<br/></span> <span class="i0">I soothed with dreams of manhood’s far-off hills<br/></span> <span class="i5">Your baby fears,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">But could not save you from the shock of strife;<br/></span> <span class="i5">With radiant eyes<br/></span> <span class="i0">You seized the sword and in the path of Life<br/></span> <span class="i5">You sought your prize.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The tempests rage, but you are fast asleep;<br/></span> <span class="i5">Though winds be wild<br/></span> <span class="i0">They cannot break your endless slumbers deep,<br/></span> <span class="i5">My little child.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_020" id="page_020"></SPAN>{20}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="PERHAPS" id="PERHAPS"></SPAN>PERHAPS——</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">To R.A.L. Died of Wounds in France, December 23rd, 1915</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> some day the sun will shine again,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And I shall see that still the skies are blue,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And feel once more I do not live in vain,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Although bereft of You.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet<br/></span> <span class="i2">Will make the sunny hours of Spring seem gay,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And I shall find the white May blossoms sweet,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Though You have passed away.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And crimson roses once again be fair,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Although You are not there.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain<br/></span> <span class="i2">To see the passing of the dying year,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And listen to the Christmas songs again,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Although You cannot hear.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_021" id="page_021"></SPAN>{21}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">But, though kind Time may many joys renew,<br/></span> <span class="i2">There is one greatest joy I shall not know<br/></span> <span class="i0">Again, because my heart for loss of You<br/></span> <span class="i2">Was broken, long ago.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i6"><i>February 1916.</i><br/></span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="A_MILITARY_HOSPITAL" id="A_MILITARY_HOSPITAL"></SPAN>A MILITARY HOSPITAL</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A mass</span> of human wreckage, drifting in<br/></span> <span class="i2">Borne on a blood-red tide,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Some never more to brave the stormy sea<br/></span> <span class="i2">Laid reverently aside,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And some with love restored to sail again<br/></span> <span class="i2">For regions far and wide.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>, <i>1916</i>.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_022" id="page_022"></SPAN>{22}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="LOOKING_WESTWARD" id="LOOKING_WESTWARD"></SPAN>LOOKING WESTWARD</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">“For a while the quiet body<br/></span> <span class="i1">Lies with feet toward the Morn.”<br/></span> <span class="i5"><span class="smcap">Hymn</span> 499, A. & M.<br/></span></div> </div></div> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> I am dead, lay me not looking East,<br/></span> <span class="i2">But towards the verge where daylight sinks to rest,<br/></span> <span class="i0">For my Beloved, who fell in War’s dark year,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Lies in a foreign meadow, facing West.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">He does not see the Heavens flushed with dawn,<br/></span> <span class="i2">But flaming through the sunset’s dying gleam;<br/></span> <span class="i0">He is not dazzled by the Morning Star,<br/></span> <span class="i2">But Hesper soothes him with her gentle beam.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">He faces not the guns he thrilled to hear,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Nor sees the skyline red with fires of Hell;<br/></span> <span class="i0">He looks for ever towards that dear home land<br/></span> <span class="i2">He loved, but bade a resolute farewell.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_023" id="page_023"></SPAN>{23}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">So would I, when my hour has come for sleep,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Lie watching where the twilight shades grow grey;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Far sooner would I share with him the Night<br/></span> <span class="i2">Than pass without him to the Splendid Day.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_024" id="page_024"></SPAN>{24}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THEN_AND_NOW" id="THEN_AND_NOW"></SPAN>THEN AND NOW</h2> <p class="cnar">“πάντα ῤει καἰ ούδένα μένει”</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Once</span> the black pine-trees on the mountain side,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The river dancing down the valley blue,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And strange brown grasses swaying with the tide,<br/></span> <span class="i2">All spoke to me of you.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">But now the sullen streamlet creeping slow,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The moaning tree-tops dark above my head,<br/></span> <span class="i0">The weeds where once the grasses used to grow<br/></span> <span class="i2">Tell me that you are dead.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_025" id="page_025"></SPAN>{25}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="MAY_MORNING" id="MAY_MORNING"></SPAN>MAY MORNING</h2> <p class="cnar">(<i>Note.</i>—At Oxford on May 1st a Latin hymn is sung at sunrise by the Magdalen choristers from the top of the tower.)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> rising sun shone warmly on the tower,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Into the clear pure Heaven the hymn aspired<br/></span> <span class="i0">Piercingly sweet. This was the morning hour<br/></span> <span class="i0">When life awoke with Spring’s creative power,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And the old City’s grey to gold was fired.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Silently reverent stood the noisy throng;<br/></span> <span class="i2">Under the bridge the boats in long array<br/></span> <span class="i0">Lay motionless. The choristers’ far song<br/></span> <span class="i0">Faded upon the breeze in echoes long.<br/></span> <span class="i2">Swiftly I left the bridge and rode away.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Straight to a little wood’s green heart I sped,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Where cowslips grew, beneath whose gold withdrawn<br/></span> <span class="i0">The fragrant earth peeped warm and richly red;<br/></span> <span class="i0">All trace of Winter’s chilling touch had fled,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And song-birds ushered in the year’s bright morn.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_026" id="page_026"></SPAN>{26}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I had met Love not many days before,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And as in blissful mood I listening lay<br/></span> <span class="i0">None ever had of joy so full a store.<br/></span> <span class="i0">I thought that Spring must last for evermore,<br/></span> <span class="i2">For I was young and loved, and it was May.<br/></span> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br/> <span class="i0">Now it is May again, and sweetly clear<br/></span> <span class="i2">Perhaps once more aspires the Latin hymn<br/></span> <span class="i0">From Magdalen tower, but not for me to hear.<br/></span> <span class="i0">I toil far distant, for a darker year<br/></span> <span class="i2">Shadows the century with menace grim.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I walk in ways where pain and sorrow dwell,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And ruin such as only War can bring,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Where each lives through his individual hell,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Fraught with remembered horror none can tell,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And no more is there glory in the Spring.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And I am worn with tears, for he I loved<br/></span> <span class="i2">Lies cold beneath the stricken sod of France;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Hope has forsaken me, by Death removed,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And Love that seemed so strong and gay has proved<br/></span> <span class="i2">A poor crushed thing, the toy of cruel Chance.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_027" id="page_027"></SPAN>{27}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Often I wonder, as I grieve in vain,<br/></span> <span class="i2">If when the long, long future years creep slow,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And War and tears alike have ceased to reign,<br/></span> <span class="i0">I ever shall recapture, once again,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The mood of that May morning, long ago.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i6"><i>May 1916.</i><br/></span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_TWO_TRAVELLERS" id="THE_TWO_TRAVELLERS"></SPAN>THE TWO TRAVELLERS</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i4">Beware!<br/></span> <span class="i0">You met two travellers in the town<br/></span> <span class="i0">Who promised you that they would take you down<br/></span> <span class="i0">The valley far away<br/></span> <span class="i0">To some strange carnival this Summer’s day.<br/></span> <span class="i4">Take care,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Lest in the crowded street<br/></span> <span class="i0">They hurry past you with forgetting feet,<br/></span> <span class="i4">And leave you standing there.<br/></span> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_028" id="page_028"></SPAN>{28}</span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="ROUNDEL" id="ROUNDEL"></SPAN>ROUNDEL</h2> <p class="cnar">(“<span class="smcap">Died of Wounds</span>”)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Because</span> you died, I shall not rest again,<br/></span> <span class="i2">But wander ever through the lone world wide,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Seeking the shadow of a dream grown vain<br/></span> <span class="i5">Because you died.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I shall spend brief and idle hours beside<br/></span> <span class="i2">The many lesser loves that still remain,<br/></span> <span class="i0">But find in none my triumph and my pride;<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And Disillusion’s slow corroding stain<br/></span> <span class="i2">Will creep upon each quest but newly tried,<br/></span> <span class="i0">For every striving now shall nothing gain<br/></span> <span class="i5">Because you died.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">France</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i4"><i>February 1918.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_029" id="page_029"></SPAN>{29}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_SISTERS_BURIED_AT_LEMNOS" id="THE_SISTERS_BURIED_AT_LEMNOS"></SPAN>THE SISTERS BURIED AT LEMNOS</h2> <p class="cnar">(“<span class="smcap">Fidelis ad Extremum</span>”)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O golden</span> Isle set in the deep blue Ocean,<br/></span> <span class="i2">With purple shadows flitting o’er thy crest,<br/></span> <span class="i0">I kneel to thee in reverent devotion<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of some who on thy bosom lie at rest!<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Seldom they enter into song or story;<br/></span> <span class="i2">Poets praise the soldier’s might and deeds of War,<br/></span> <span class="i0">But few exalt the Sisters, and the glory<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of women dead beneath a distant star.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">No armies threatened in that lonely station,<br/></span> <span class="i2">They fought not fire or steel or ruthless foe,<br/></span> <span class="i0">But heat and hunger, sickness and privation,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And Winter’s deathly chill and blinding snow.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Till mortal frailty could endure no longer<br/></span> <span class="i2">Disease’s ravages and climate’s power,<br/></span> <span class="i0">In body weak, but spirit ever stronger,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Courageously they stayed to meet their hour.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_030" id="page_030"></SPAN>{30}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">No blazing tribute through the wide world flying,<br/></span> <span class="i2">No rich reward of sacrifice they craved,<br/></span> <span class="i0">The only meed of their victorious dying<br/></span> <span class="i2">Lives in the hearts of humble men they saved.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Who when in light the Final Dawn is breaking,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Still faithful, though the world’s regard may cease,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Will honour, splendid in triumphant waking,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The souls of women, lonely here at peace.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">O golden Isle with purple shadows falling<br/></span> <span class="i2">Across thy rocky shore and sapphire sea,<br/></span> <span class="i0">I shall not picture these without recalling<br/></span> <span class="i2">The Sisters sleeping on the heart of thee!<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">H.M.H.S. “<span class="smcap">Britannic</span>,” <span class="smcap">Mudros</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i6"><i>October 1916.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_031" id="page_031"></SPAN>{31}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="IN_MEMORIAM_GRYT" id="IN_MEMORIAM_GRYT"></SPAN>IN MEMORIAM: G.R.Y.T.</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">Killed in Action, April 23rd, 1917</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I spoke</span> with you but seldom, yet there lay<br/></span> <span class="i2">Some nameless glamour in your written word,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And thoughts of you rose often—longings stirred<br/></span> <span class="i0">By dear remembrance of the sad blue-grey<br/></span> <span class="i0">That dwelt within your eyes, the even sway<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of your young god-like gait, the rarely heard<br/></span> <span class="i0">But frank bright laughter, hallowed by a Day<br/></span> <span class="i2">That made of Youth Right’s offering to the sword.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">So now I ponder, since your day is done,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Ere dawn was past, on all you meant to me,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And all the more you might have come to be,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And wonder if some state, beyond the sun<br/></span> <span class="i2">And shadows here, may yet completion see<br/></span> <span class="i0">Of intimacy sweet though scarce begun.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Malta</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i4"><i>May 1917.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_032" id="page_032"></SPAN>{32}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="A_PARTING_WORD" id="A_PARTING_WORD"></SPAN>A PARTING WORD</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">To a Fortunate Friend</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> you should be too happy in your days<br/></span> <span class="i2">And never know an hour of vain regret,<br/></span> <span class="i4">Do not forget<br/></span> <span class="i0">That still the shadows darken all my ways.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">If sunshine sweeter still should light your years,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And you lose nought of all you dearly prize,<br/></span> <span class="i4">Turn not your eyes<br/></span> <span class="i0">From my steep track of anguish and of tears.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And if perhaps your love of me is less<br/></span> <span class="i2">Than I with all my need of you would choose,<br/></span> <span class="i4">Do not refuse<br/></span> <span class="i0">To love enough to lighten my distress.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And if the future days should parting see<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of our so different paths that lately met,<br/></span> <span class="i4">Remember yet<br/></span> <span class="i0">Those days of storm you weathered through with me.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Malta</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i3"><i>May 1917.</i><br/></span> <span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_033" id="page_033"></SPAN>{33}</span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="TO_MY_BROTHER" id="TO_MY_BROTHER"></SPAN>TO MY BROTHER<SPAN name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</SPAN></h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">In memory of July 1st, 1916</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Your</span> battle-wounds are scars upon my heart,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Received when in that grand and tragic “show”<br/></span> <span class="i0">You played your part<br/></span> <span class="i2">Two years ago,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And silver in the summer morning sun<br/></span> <span class="i2">I see the symbol of your courage glow—<br/></span> <span class="i0">That Cross you won<br/></span> <span class="i2">Two years ago.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Though now again you watch the shrapnel fly,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And hear the guns that daily louder grow,<br/></span> <span class="i0">As in July<br/></span> <span class="i2">Two years ago,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">May you endure to lead the Last Advance<br/></span> <span class="i2">And with your men pursue the flying foe<br/></span> <span class="i0">As once in France<br/></span> <span class="i2">Two years ago.<br/></span></div> </div></div> <div class="footnote"><p><SPAN name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></SPAN><SPAN href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></SPAN> Captain E. H. Brittain, M.C. Written four days before his death in action in the Austrian offensive on the Italian Front, June 15th, 1918.</p> </div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_034" id="page_034"></SPAN>{34}</span></p> <h2><SPAN name="SIC_TRANSIT" id="SIC_TRANSIT"></SPAN>SIC TRANSIT——</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">V.R., Died of Wounds, 2nd London General Hospital, Chelsea, June 9th, 1917</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I am</span> so tired.<br/></span> <span class="i2">The dying sun incarnadines the West,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And every window with its gold is fired,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And all I loved the best<br/></span> <span class="i0">Is gone, and every good that I desired<br/></span> <span class="i2">Passes away, an idle hopeless quest;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Even the Highest whereto I aspired<br/></span> <span class="i2">Has vanished with the rest.<br/></span> <span class="i0">I am so tired.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">London</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i2"><i>June 1917.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_035" id="page_035"></SPAN>{35}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="TO_THEM" id="TO_THEM"></SPAN>TO THEM</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I hear</span> your voices in the whispering trees,<br/></span> <span class="i2">I see your footprints on each grassy track,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Your laughter echoes gaily down the breeze—<br/></span> <span class="i2">But you will not come back.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The twilight skies are tender with your smile,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The stars look down with eyes for which I yearn,<br/></span> <span class="i0">I dream that you are with me all the while—<br/></span> <span class="i2">But you will not return.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The flowers are gay in gardens that you knew,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The woods you loved are sweet with summer rain,<br/></span> <span class="i0">The fields you trod are empty now, but you<br/></span> <span class="i2">Will never come again.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i2"><i>June 1917.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_036" id="page_036"></SPAN>{36}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="OXFORD_REVISITED" id="OXFORD_REVISITED"></SPAN>OXFORD REVISITED</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">There’s</span> a gleam of sun on the grey old street<br/></span> <span class="i2">Where we used to walk in the Oxford days,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And dream that the world lay beneath our feet<br/></span> <span class="i2">In the dawn of a summer morning.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Now the years have passed, and it’s we who lie<br/></span> <span class="i2">Crushed under the burden of world-wide woe,<br/></span> <span class="i0">But the misty magic will never die<br/></span> <span class="i2">From the dawn of an Oxford morning.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And the end delays, and perhaps no more<br/></span> <span class="i2">I shall see the spires of my youth’s delight,<br/></span> <span class="i0">But they’ll gladden my eyes as in days of yore<br/></span> <span class="i2">At the dawn of Eternal Morning.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i2"><i>June 1917.</i><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_037" id="page_037"></SPAN>{37}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THAT_WHICH_REMAINETH" id="THAT_WHICH_REMAINETH"></SPAN>THAT WHICH REMAINETH</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">In Memory of Captain E. H. Brittain, M.C.</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Only</span> the thought of a merry smile,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The wistful dreaming of sad brown eyes—<br/></span> <span class="i0">A brave young warrior, face aglow<br/></span> <span class="i2">With the light of a lofty enterprise.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Only the hope of a gallant heart,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The steady strife for a deathless crown,<br/></span> <span class="i0">In Memory’s treasures, radiant now<br/></span> <span class="i2">With the gleam of a goal beyond renown.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Only the tale of a dream fulfilled,<br/></span> <span class="i2">A strenuous day and a well-fought fight,<br/></span> <span class="i0">A fearless leader who laughed at Death,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And the fitting end of a gentle knight.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Only a Cross on a mountain side,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The close of a journey short and rough,<br/></span> <span class="i0">A sword laid down and a stainless shield—<br/></span> <span class="i2">No more—and yet, is it not enough?<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_038" id="page_038"></SPAN>{38}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_GERMAN_WARD" id="THE_GERMAN_WARD"></SPAN>THE GERMAN WARD</h2> <p class="cnar">(“<span class="smcap">Inter arma caritas</span>”)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> the years of strife are over and my recollection fades<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of the wards wherein I worked the weeks away,<br/></span> <span class="i0">I shall still see, as a vision rising ’mid the War-time shades,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The ward in France where German wounded lay.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I shall see the pallid faces and the half-suspicious eyes,<br/></span> <span class="i2">I shall hear the bitter groans and laboured breath,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And recall the loud complaining and the weary tedious cries,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And sights and smells of blood and wounds and death.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I shall see the convoy cases, blanket-covered on the floor,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And watch the heavy stretcher-work begin,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_039" id="page_039"></SPAN>{39}</span><br/></span> <span class="i0">And the gleam of knives and bottles through the open theatre door,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And the operation patients carried in.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I shall see the Sister standing, with her form of youthful grace,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And the humour and the wisdom of her smile,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And the tale of three years’ warfare on her thin expressive face—<br/></span> <span class="i2">The weariness of many a toil-filled while.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">I shall think of how I worked for her with nerve and heart and mind,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And marvelled at her courage and her skill,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And how the dying enemy her tenderness would find<br/></span> <span class="i2">Beneath her scornful energy of will.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And I learnt that human mercy turns alike to friend or foe<br/></span> <span class="i2">When the darkest hour of all is creeping nigh,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And those who slew our dearest, when their lamps were burning low,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Found help and pity ere they came to die.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">So, though much will be forgotten when the sound of War’s alarms<br/></span> <span class="i2">And the days of death and strife have passed away,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_040" id="page_040"></SPAN>{40}</span><br/></span> <span class="i0">I shall always see the vision of Love working amidst arms<br/></span> <span class="i2">In the ward wherein the wounded prisoners lay.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">France</span>,<br/></span> <span class="i4"><i>September 1917.</i><br/></span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_TROOP-TRAIN" id="THE_TROOP-TRAIN"></SPAN>THE TROOP-TRAIN</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">France, 1917</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">As</span> we came down from Amiens,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And they went up the line,<br/></span> <span class="i0">They waved their careless hands to us,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And cheered the Red Cross sign.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">And often I have wondered since,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Repicturing that train,<br/></span> <span class="i0">How many of those laughing souls<br/></span> <span class="i2">Came down the line again.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_041" id="page_041"></SPAN>{41}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="TO_MY_WARD-SISTER" id="TO_MY_WARD-SISTER"></SPAN>TO MY WARD-SISTER</h2> <p class="cnar"><span class="smcap">Night Duty, December 1917</span></p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Through</span> the night-watches of our House of Sighs<br/></span> <span class="i2">In capable serenity of mind<br/></span> <span class="i2">You steadily achieve the tasks designed<br/></span> <span class="i0">With calm, half-smiling, interested eyes;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Though all-unknowing, confidently wise<br/></span> <span class="i2">Concerning pain you never felt, you find<br/></span> <span class="i0">Content from uneventful years arise<br/></span> <span class="i2">As you toil on, mechanically kind.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">So thus far have your smooth days passed, but when<br/></span> <span class="i2">The tempest none escape shall cloud your sky,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And Life grow dark around you, through your pain<br/></span> <span class="i0">You’ll learn the meaning of your mercy then<br/></span> <span class="i2">To those who blessed you as you passed them by,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Nor seek to tread the untroubled road again.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">France.</span><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_042" id="page_042"></SPAN>{42}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="TO_ANOTHER_SISTER" id="TO_ANOTHER_SISTER"></SPAN>TO ANOTHER SISTER</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I knew</span> that you had suffered many things,<br/></span> <span class="i2">For I could see your eyes would often weep<br/></span> <span class="i2">Through bitter midnight hours when others sleep;<br/></span> <span class="i0">And in your smile the lurking scorn that springs<br/></span> <span class="i2">From cruel knowledge of a love, once deep,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Grown gradually cold, until the stings<br/></span> <span class="i0">Pierce mercilessly of a past that clings<br/></span> <span class="i2">Undying to your lonely path and steep.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">So, loved and honoured leader, I would pray<br/></span> <span class="i2">That hidden future days may hold in store<br/></span> <span class="i0">Some solace for your yearning even yet,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And in some joy to come you may forget<br/></span> <span class="i2">The burdened toil you will not suffer more,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And see the War-time shadows fade away.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i2"><span class="smcap">France</span>, <i>1918</i>.<br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_043" id="page_043"></SPAN>{43}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="VENGEANCE_IS_MINE" id="VENGEANCE_IS_MINE"></SPAN>“VENGEANCE IS MINE”</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">In Memory of the Sisters who died in the Great Air Raid upon Hospitals at Étaples</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Who</span> shall avenge us for anguish unnamable,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Rivers of scarlet and crosses of grey,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Terror of night-time and blood-lust untamable,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Hate without pity where broken we lay?<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">How could we help them, in agony calling us,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Those whom we laboured to comfort and save,<br/></span> <span class="i0">How still their moaning, whose hour was befalling us,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Crushed in a horror more dark than the grave?<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Burning of canvas and smashing of wood above—<br/></span> <span class="i2">Havoc of Mercy’s toil—shall He forget<br/></span> <span class="i0">Us that have fallen, Who numbers in gracious love<br/></span> <span class="i2">Each tiny creature whose life is man’s debt?<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_044" id="page_044"></SPAN>{44}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Will He not hear us, though speech is now failing us—<br/></span> <span class="i2">Voices too feeble to utter a cry?<br/></span> <span class="i0">Shall they not answer, the foemen assailing us,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Women who suffer and women who die?<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Who shall avenge us for anguish unnamable,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Rivers of scarlet and crosses of grey,<br/></span> <span class="i0">Terror of night-time and blood-lust untamable,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Hate without pity where broken we lay?<br/></span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="WAR" id="WAR"></SPAN>WAR</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">The Great German Offensive, March—May 1918</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A night</span> of storm and thunder crashing by,<br/></span> <span class="i2">A bitter night of tempest and of rain—<br/></span> <span class="i0">Then calm at dawn beneath a wind-swept sky,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And broken flowers that will not bloom again.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">An age of Death and Agony and Tears,<br/></span> <span class="i2">A cruel age of woe unguessed before—<br/></span> <span class="i0">Then peace to close the weary storm-wrecked years,<br/></span> <span class="i2">And broken hearts that bleed for evermore.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i2"><span class="smcap">France.</span><br/></span> <span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_045" id="page_045"></SPAN>{45}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_LAST_POST" id="THE_LAST_POST"></SPAN>THE LAST POST</h2> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> stars are shining bright above the camps,<br/></span> <span class="i2">The bugle calls float skyward, faintly clear;<br/></span> <span class="i0">Over the hill the mist-veiled motor lamps<br/></span> <span class="i2">Dwindle and disappear.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">The notes of day’s good-bye arise and blend<br/></span> <span class="i2">With the low murmurous hum from tree and sod,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And swell into that question at the end<br/></span> <span class="i2">They ask each night of God—<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Whether the dead within the burial ground<br/></span> <span class="i2">Will ever overthrow their crosses grey,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And rise triumphant from each lowly mound<br/></span> <span class="i2">To greet the dawning day.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">Whether the eyes which battle sealed in sleep<br/></span> <span class="i2">Will open to reveillé once again,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And forms, once mangled, into rapture leap,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Forgetful of their pain.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="page_046" id="page_046"></SPAN>{46}</span><br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">But still the stars above the camp shine on,<br/></span> <span class="i2">Giving no answer for our sorrow’s ease,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And one more day with the Last Post has gone<br/></span> <span class="i2">Dying upon the breeze.<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Étaples</span>, <i>1918</i>.<br/></span></div> </div></div> <h2><SPAN name="THE_ASPIRANT" id="THE_ASPIRANT"></SPAN>THE ASPIRANT</h2> <p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">A Plea</span>)</p> <div class="poetry"> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> <span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Because</span> I dare to stand outside the gate<br/></span> <span class="i2">Of that high temple wherein Fame abides,<br/></span> <span class="i0">And loudly knock, too eager to await<br/></span> <span class="i2">Whate’er betides,<br/></span></div> <div class="stanza"> <span class="i0">May God forgive, since He alone can see<br/></span> <span class="i2">The joys that others have but I must miss,<br/></span> <span class="i0">For how shall Compensation come to me<br/></span> <span class="i2">If not through this?<br/></span></div> </div></div> <p> </p> <p class="c"><small><i>Prin<span class="ov">ted by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesb</span>ury.</i></small></p> <hr class="full" /> <SPAN name="endofbook"></SPAN> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

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