But no, that pressure on my heart
Reminds me, with a sudden dart
Of pain, so keen it seems to thrill,
That my dear love is by me still.
And now I understand
The meaning of that band,
Her heart is beating time
In unison with mine.
————
Again those words of love I hear,
But now they are so very near,
They’re telling me of deeds I’ve done
And of the wished for cross I’ve won!
So after all my life’s not lost,
Amidst that fiery holocaust,
I’ve done what I was meant to do,
What matter if the fight’s not through!
My little love your head is pressed
Too close upon my burning breast,
And yet it seems, that while you press,
The pain is growing less and less.
Perhaps I’m going west,
I’m tired, I want to rest,
My breathing’s slow and deep,
I’m sinking fast asleep—
————
In shell tossed No Man’s Land they saw him, lying
Unconscious, smiling in his sleep, but dying—
His broken arm hung limp, a mortal wound
Gaped wide above his heart, on which they found,
Tight pressed, the picture of his youthful bride,
Whose grave is swept by ocean’s restless tide.
PERFECT IN THY PROMISE.
Perfect in thy promise, as the bud unfolding,
Perfect in thyself, as rose fresh blown,
Ever gracious, all that’s pure and good upholding,
Perfect spirit, hast thou really flown?
Must I spend alone the many, many morrows,
Void of blissful hopes together spanned,
Hopes of service in assuaging others’ sorrows,
Hopes of varied joys together planned?
No, these heavy mourning weeds I’ll cast asunder,
Struggle through the clouds that wrap me round,
Close my ears to their unholy, fearsome thunder,
Spring anew to life from grief unbound.