I shall never forget the hot flushes of shame
That rushed to my cheeks as that young fellow came.
He was cheerful and smiling and clear-eyed and fine
And out of his face golden light seemed to shine.
And I thought as he passed me on crutches:
"How small
Are the gifts that I make if I don't give my all."
Some day in the future in many a place
More soldiers just like him we'll all have to face.
We must sit with them, talk with them, laugh with them, too,