A sudden forward motion of the train,
The world grown dark although the sun still shone,
One last blurred look through aching tear-dimmed eyes—
And you were gone.
TO A FALLEN IDOL
O you who sought to rend the stars from Heaven
But rent instead your too-ambitious heart,
Know that with those to whom Love’s joy is given
You have not, nor can ever have, a part.
A nation’s loyalty might have been your glory,
And men have blessed your name from shore to shore,
But you have set the seal upon your story,
And must go hence, alone for evermore.
TO MONSEIGNEUR
(R.A.L., Lieutenant, Worcesters)
None shall dispute Your kingship, nor declare
Another could have held the place You hold,
For though he brought me finer gifts than gold,
And laid before my feet his heart made bare
Of all but love for me, and sighed despair
If I but feigned my favours to withhold,
And would repudiate as sadly cold
The proud and lofty manner that You wear,
He would not be my pure and stainless knight
Of heart without reproach or hint of fear,
Who walks unscathed amid War’s sordid ways
By base desire or bloodshed’s grim delight,
But ever holds his hero’s honour dear—
Roland of Roncesvalles in modern days.
1st London General Hospital,
November 1915.