Have you no arms, soldier?
See, I have two.
Whatever deeds for arms there be,
These still I can do.
Out of clay I still can make
Living things like me and you.
I still can cleave the lake
With strong arms true.
Have you no feet, soldier,
No feet at all?
I still have feet to climb
Oak-tree and tall.
Still as in our boyhood,
I leap the hedge and climb the wall.
Still my feet will chase the Spring
When birds call.
Have you no eyes, soldier,
Keen eyes like me?
My eyes still have light that draw
Strength from the great sea.
O soldier, is it hard to lose
The first Spring-whisper on the tree,
Sun foaming round the love you choose,
Whosoever she?
Ah! but you have something, soldier,
Never we shall know.
You shall hear the holy winds
We can not hear blow.
From your garden-soul shall start
Flowers of flaming snow.
There's the secret at your heart
Never we shall know.
STILL LIFE IN FRANCE
Sweet peas drooping in a vase
Like the tears of Niobe,
Poppies like the cheeks of Mars
Kissing the Aphrodite.
Pansies like a dryad's eyes,
Open-wide and half-afraid,
Like unfolded butterflies
In a little Tempe glade.
* * * * *
Flowers and words might be my toys
Half a drowsy summer day,
But at night I hear the noise
Of bombardment far away.