But, though kind Time may many joys renew,
There is one greatest joy I shall not know
Again, because my heart for loss of You
Was broken, long ago.
1st London General Hospital,
February 1916.
A MILITARY HOSPITAL
A mass of human wreckage, drifting in
Borne on a blood-red tide,
Some never more to brave the stormy sea
Laid reverently aside,
And some with love restored to sail again
For regions far and wide.
1st London General Hospital, 1916.
LOOKING WESTWARD
“For a while the quiet body
Lies with feet toward the Morn.”
Hymn 499, A. & M.
When I am dead, lay me not looking East,
But towards the verge where daylight sinks to rest,
For my Beloved, who fell in War’s dark year,
Lies in a foreign meadow, facing West.
He does not see the Heavens flushed with dawn,
But flaming through the sunset’s dying gleam;
He is not dazzled by the Morning Star,
But Hesper soothes him with her gentle beam.
He faces not the guns he thrilled to hear,
Nor sees the skyline red with fires of Hell;
He looks for ever towards that dear home land
He loved, but bade a resolute farewell.