Killed in Action
MY father lived his three-score years; my son lived twenty-two;
One looked long back on work well done, and one had all to do—
Yet which the better served his world, I know not, nor do you!
Life taught my father all her lore till he grew wise and gray,
She did but whisper to my son before she turned away—
Yet which her deepest secret held only they two might say.
Peace brought my father restful days, with love and fame for wage;
War gave my son an unmarked grave and an unwritten page—
Who shall declare which gift conveyed the greater heritage?