SHE
When you come back—
Ah, ’twill be such returning
As only lips like mine can sanctify!
Then will my arms, that ache with endless yearning,
Find sweet surcease from the regret of learning
To give you up, if need there be, to die.
Should you come back
Aged from the toil of fighting,
Marred, it may be, though perfect you set out,
What matters, so your heart has known no blighting,
Your soul has met the test without affrighting?
What is there, dear one, after that, to doubt!
Oh, but you must come back to me, beloved!
Wounded or no, you must come back.