RECOMPENSE
(To the Men of the 2/5 Gloucester Regiment)
I’d not have missed one single scrap of pain
That brought me to such friends, and them to me;
And precious is the smallest agony,
The greatest, willingly to bear again—
Cruel frost, night vigils, death so often ta’en
By Golgothas untold from Somme to Sea.
Duty’s a grey thing; Friendship valorously
Rides high above all Fortune without stain.
Their eyes were stars within the blackest night
Of Evil’s trial. Never mariner
Did trust so in the ever-fixéd star
As I in those. And so their laughter sounded—
Trumpets of Victory glittering in sunlight;
Though Hell’s power ringed them in, and night surrounded.
THE TRYST
(To W. M. C.)
In curtain of the hazel wood,
From sunset to the clear-of-star,
An hour or more I feared, but stood—
My lover’s road was far.
Until within the ferny brake
Stirred patter feet and silver talk
That set all horror wide awake—
I fear the fairy folk ...
That bind with chains and change a maid
From happy smiling to a thing
Better in ground unhallowed laid
Where holy bells not ring.
And whether late he came or soon
I know not, through a rush of air
Along the white road under the moon
I sped, till the golden square
Showed of the blind lamplighted; then,
My hand on heart, I slackened, stood ...
Though Robin be the man of men,
I’ll walk no more that wood.