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diff --git a/old/51907-h/51907-h.htm b/old/51907-h/51907-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 422dab4..0000000 --- a/old/51907-h/51907-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1499 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Poems of a V.A.D, by Vera M. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Verses of a V.A.D. - -Author: Vera Mary Brittain - -Release Date: May 1, 2016 [EBook #51907] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VERSES OF A V.A.D. *** - - - - -Produced by MWS, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="314" height="500" alt="" title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="cb">VERSES OF A V.A.D.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span></p> - -<h1> -VERSES OF A V.A.D</h1> - -<p class="c"><small>BY</small><br /> -VERA M. BRITTAIN -<br /> -(V.A.D. <span class="smcap">London</span>/268, B.R.C.S.)<br /> -<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">Foreword by MARIE CONNOR LEIGHTON</span><br /> -<br /><br /> -ERSKINE MACDONALD, LTD.<br /> - -LONDON, W.C.1<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span><br /> -<i>All Rights Reserved</i><br /> -<i>First published August 1918</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span> </p> - -<p class="cb"> -DEDICATED<br /> -<br /> -TO THE MEMORY OF<br /> -<br /> -<big>ROLAND AUBREY LEIGHTON</big><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Lieutenant, Worcestershire Regiment</span><br /> -<br /> -<small>DIED OF WOUNDS NEAR HÉBUTERNE</small><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">December 23rd, 1915</span><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Good-bye, sweet friend. What matters it that you<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Have found Love’s death in joy, and I in sorrow?<br /></span> -<span class="i1">For hand in hand, just as we used to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">We two shall live our passionate poem through<br /></span> -<span class="i1">On God’s serene to-morrow.”<br /></span> -<span class="i8">R. A. L.<br /></span> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FOREWORD" id="FOREWORD"></a>FOREWORD</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">These</span> poems, by a writer for whom I have literary hopes, belong very -clearly to that new and vigorous type of poetry which has sprung from -the stress of the last few years and has its root in things done and -suffered rather than in things merely imagined.</p> - -<p>Until lately our very belief in the saying that the poet is born and not -made proved that we had completely accepted poetry as coming only from -within, spun, as it were, out of our inner consciousness, and either -quite unhelped, or else only partially helped, by active experiences -from without. We have always understood, of course, that such an -experience as, for instance, the sudden flashing upon us of a magnetic -face as a stranger passes in the street might set aglow a train of -thought that would quicken and melt into feeling, and the feeling would, -in turn, need—and find—expression in poetry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span></p> - -<p>So far as this we have admitted that outward occurrences in the course -of our quickly flying days can become a source of poetical inspiration. -But, in spite of the pointing finger of Kipling, most of us clung -desperately to the verse that had its sole origin in imaginative emotion -until the blaze of war in the world illumined our souls and showed all -of us that out of our simplest practical work can be struck sparks of -real and great and rare divine fire.</p> - -<p>All the poems in this little book are the outcome of things very deeply -felt. It is very difficult for me to write of them because where there -is pain uttered in them, it has almost always been my pain as well as -the author’s. One or two of the sonnets condense the expression of -losses that have meant a life’s upheaval. One or two, again, are -practically a concrete record of simple human things observed and -suffered and of duty strenuously done. Here there is no leisured -dreaming, but sheer experience, solid and stored up, like the honey that -a bee’s labour has stored.</p> - -<p>But this practical quality, while it has so much that makes it rich and -valuable, has also the one conspicuous disadvantage that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span> work is -often done under conditions of strain and turmoil that tell against -perfection of method. Some of these <i>Verses of a V.A.D.</i> were written in -almost breathless intervals of severe and devoted duty. The poem -entitled “The German Ward” is especially an example of this. In such -circumstances, it is difficult to achieve any literary ornamentation and -least of all that particular kind of simpleness which is the highest -form of finished art. In the case of several of the poems, both these -qualities have been achieved; yet, because of the difficulties, I make -an appeal for considerateness and tender sympathy in judging these first -shy flowers of the heart and mind of a young girl who has worked -unceasingly and self-forgettingly for the good of others since the days -of stress began, and who in her personal destiny has suffered as, I -hope, very few have suffered.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Marie Connor Leighton.</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#AUGUST_1914"><span class="smcap">August 1914</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_015">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#ST_PANCRAS_STATION_AUGUST_1915"><span class="smcap">St. Pancras Station, August 1915</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_016">16</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#TO_A_FALLEN_IDOL"><span class="smcap">To a Fallen Idol</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_017">17</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#TO_MONSEIGNEUR"><span class="smcap">To Monseigneur</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_018">18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_ONLY_SON"><span class="smcap">The Only Son</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_019">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#PERHAPS"><span class="smcap">Perhaps——</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_020">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#A_MILITARY_HOSPITAL"><span class="smcap">A Military Hospital</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_021">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#LOOKING_WESTWARD"><span class="smcap">Looking Westward</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_022">22</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THEN_AND_NOW"><span class="smcap">Then and Now</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_024">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#MAY_MORNING"><span class="smcap">May Morning</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_025">25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_TWO_TRAVELLERS"><span class="smcap">The Two Travellers</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_027">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#ROUNDEL"><span class="smcap">Roundel</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_028">28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_SISTERS_BURIED_AT_LEMNOS"><span class="smcap">The Sisters buried at Lemnos</span></a></td><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_029">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM_GRYT"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam: G.R.Y.T.</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_031">31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#A_PARTING_WORD"><span class="smcap">A Parting Word</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_032">32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#TO_MY_BROTHER"><span class="smcap">To My Brother</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#SIC_TRANSIT"><span class="smcap">Sic Transit——</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_034">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#TO_THEM"><span class="smcap">To Them</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_035">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#OXFORD_REVISITED"><span class="smcap">Oxford revisited</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_036">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THAT_WHICH_REMAINETH"><span class="smcap">That which Remaineth</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_037">37</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_GERMAN_WARD"><span class="smcap">The German Ward</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_038">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_TROOP-TRAIN"><span class="smcap">The Troop-train</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_040">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#TO_MY_WARD-SISTER"><span class="smcap">To my Ward-sister</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_041">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#TO_ANOTHER_SISTER"><span class="smcap">To another Sister</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_042">42</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#VENGEANCE_IS_MINE"><span class="smcap">“Vengeance is Mine”</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_043">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#WAR"><span class="smcap">War</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_044">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_LAST_POST"><span class="smcap">The Last Post</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_045">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_ASPIRANT"><span class="smcap">The Aspirant</span></a></td><td></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_046">46</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Acknowledgments are due to the Editor of <i>The Oxford Magazine</i>, in which -“May Morning” and “The Sisters buried at Lemnos” were first published.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AUGUST_1914" id="AUGUST_1914"></a>AUGUST 1914</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">God</span> said, “Men have forgotten Me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The souls that sleep shall wake again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blinded eyes must learn to see.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So since redemption comes through pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He smote the earth with chastening rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brought Destruction’s lurid reign;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But where His desolation trod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The people in their agony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Despairing cried, “There is no God.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Somerville College</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Oxford</span>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ST_PANCRAS_STATION_AUGUST_1915" id="ST_PANCRAS_STATION_AUGUST_1915"></a>ST. PANCRAS STATION, AUGUST 1915</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">One</span> long, sweet kiss pressed close upon my lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One moment’s rest on your swift-beating heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all was over, for the hour had come<br /></span> -<span class="i8">For us to part.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sudden forward motion of the train,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The world grown dark although the sun still shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One last blurred look through aching tear-dimmed eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And you were gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_A_FALLEN_IDOL" id="TO_A_FALLEN_IDOL"></a>TO A FALLEN IDOL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O you</span> who sought to rend the stars from Heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But rent instead your too-ambitious heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know that with those to whom Love’s joy is given<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You have not, nor can ever have, a part.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A nation’s loyalty might have been your glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And men have blessed your name from shore to shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But you have set the seal upon your story,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And must go hence, alone for evermore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_MONSEIGNEUR" id="TO_MONSEIGNEUR"></a>TO MONSEIGNEUR</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">R.A.L., Lieutenant, Worcesters</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">None</span> shall dispute Your kingship, nor declare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another could have held the place You hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For though he brought me finer gifts than gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laid before my feet his heart made bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all but love for me, and sighed despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If I but feigned my favours to withhold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And would repudiate as sadly cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The proud and lofty manner that You wear,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He would not be my pure and stainless knight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of heart without reproach or hint of fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who walks unscathed amid War’s sordid ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By base desire or bloodshed’s grim delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ever holds his hero’s honour dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roland of Roncesvalles in modern days.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>November 1915.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ONLY_SON" id="THE_ONLY_SON"></a>THE ONLY SON</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> storm beats loud, and you are far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">The night is wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On distant fields of battle breaks the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">My little child?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I sought to shield you from the least of ills<br /></span> -<span class="i5">In bygone years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I soothed with dreams of manhood’s far-off hills<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Your baby fears,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But could not save you from the shock of strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i5">With radiant eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You seized the sword and in the path of Life<br /></span> -<span class="i5">You sought your prize.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tempests rage, but you are fast asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Though winds be wild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They cannot break your endless slumbers deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">My little child.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PERHAPS" id="PERHAPS"></a>PERHAPS——</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">To R.A.L. Died of Wounds in France, December 23rd, 1915</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Perhaps</span> some day the sun will shine again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I shall see that still the skies are blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feel once more I do not live in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although bereft of You.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will make the sunny hours of Spring seem gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall find the white May blossoms sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though You have passed away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And crimson roses once again be fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And autumn harvest fields a rich delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although You are not there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see the passing of the dying year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And listen to the Christmas songs again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although You cannot hear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, though kind Time may many joys renew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is one greatest joy I shall not know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again, because my heart for loss of You<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was broken, long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>February 1916.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_MILITARY_HOSPITAL" id="A_MILITARY_HOSPITAL"></a>A MILITARY HOSPITAL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A mass</span> of human wreckage, drifting in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Borne on a blood-red tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some never more to brave the stormy sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laid reverently aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some with love restored to sail again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For regions far and wide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>, <i>1916</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LOOKING_WESTWARD" id="LOOKING_WESTWARD"></a>LOOKING WESTWARD</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“For a while the quiet body<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Lies with feet toward the Morn.”<br /></span> -<span class="i5"><span class="smcap">Hymn</span> 499, A. & M.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> I am dead, lay me not looking East,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But towards the verge where daylight sinks to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my Beloved, who fell in War’s dark year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lies in a foreign meadow, facing West.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He does not see the Heavens flushed with dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But flaming through the sunset’s dying gleam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is not dazzled by the Morning Star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But Hesper soothes him with her gentle beam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He faces not the guns he thrilled to hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor sees the skyline red with fires of Hell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He looks for ever towards that dear home land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He loved, but bade a resolute farewell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So would I, when my hour has come for sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lie watching where the twilight shades grow grey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far sooner would I share with him the Night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than pass without him to the Splendid Day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THEN_AND_NOW" id="THEN_AND_NOW"></a>THEN AND NOW</h2> -<p class="cnar">“πάντα ῤει καἰ ούδένα μένει”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Once</span> the black pine-trees on the mountain side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The river dancing down the valley blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strange brown grasses swaying with the tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All spoke to me of you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now the sullen streamlet creeping slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moaning tree-tops dark above my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weeds where once the grasses used to grow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell me that you are dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MAY_MORNING" id="MAY_MORNING"></a>MAY MORNING</h2> - -<p class="cnar">(<i>Note.</i>—At Oxford on May 1st a Latin hymn is sung at sunrise by the -Magdalen choristers from the top of the tower.)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> rising sun shone warmly on the tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the clear pure Heaven the hymn aspired<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piercingly sweet. This was the morning hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When life awoke with Spring’s creative power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the old City’s grey to gold was fired.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Silently reverent stood the noisy throng;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the bridge the boats in long array<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay motionless. The choristers’ far song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faded upon the breeze in echoes long.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swiftly I left the bridge and rode away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Straight to a little wood’s green heart I sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where cowslips grew, beneath whose gold withdrawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fragrant earth peeped warm and richly red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All trace of Winter’s chilling touch had fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And song-birds ushered in the year’s bright morn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I had met Love not many days before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And as in blissful mood I listening lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None ever had of joy so full a store.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought that Spring must last for evermore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I was young and loved, and it was May.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i0">Now it is May again, and sweetly clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps once more aspires the Latin hymn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Magdalen tower, but not for me to hear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I toil far distant, for a darker year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shadows the century with menace grim.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I walk in ways where pain and sorrow dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ruin such as only War can bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where each lives through his individual hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fraught with remembered horror none can tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And no more is there glory in the Spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I am worn with tears, for he I loved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lies cold beneath the stricken sod of France;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope has forsaken me, by Death removed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Love that seemed so strong and gay has proved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A poor crushed thing, the toy of cruel Chance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Often I wonder, as I grieve in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If when the long, long future years creep slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And War and tears alike have ceased to reign,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ever shall recapture, once again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mood of that May morning, long ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">1st London General Hospital</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>May 1916.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TWO_TRAVELLERS" id="THE_TWO_TRAVELLERS"></a>THE TWO TRAVELLERS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Beware!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You met two travellers in the town<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who promised you that they would take you down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The valley far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To some strange carnival this Summer’s day.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Take care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest in the crowded street<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They hurry past you with forgetting feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And leave you standing there.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROUNDEL" id="ROUNDEL"></a>ROUNDEL</h2> -<p class="cnar">(“<span class="smcap">Died of Wounds</span>”)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Because</span> you died, I shall not rest again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But wander ever through the lone world wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking the shadow of a dream grown vain<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Because you died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall spend brief and idle hours beside<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The many lesser loves that still remain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But find in none my triumph and my pride;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Disillusion’s slow corroding stain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will creep upon each quest but newly tried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For every striving now shall nothing gain<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Because you died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">France</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>February 1918.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_SISTERS_BURIED_AT_LEMNOS" id="THE_SISTERS_BURIED_AT_LEMNOS"></a>THE SISTERS BURIED AT LEMNOS</h2> -<p class="cnar">(“<span class="smcap">Fidelis ad Extremum</span>”)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O golden</span> Isle set in the deep blue Ocean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With purple shadows flitting o’er thy crest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I kneel to thee in reverent devotion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of some who on thy bosom lie at rest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seldom they enter into song or story;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poets praise the soldier’s might and deeds of War,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But few exalt the Sisters, and the glory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of women dead beneath a distant star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No armies threatened in that lonely station,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They fought not fire or steel or ruthless foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But heat and hunger, sickness and privation,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Winter’s deathly chill and blinding snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till mortal frailty could endure no longer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Disease’s ravages and climate’s power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In body weak, but spirit ever stronger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Courageously they stayed to meet their hour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No blazing tribute through the wide world flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No rich reward of sacrifice they craved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The only meed of their victorious dying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lives in the hearts of humble men they saved.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who when in light the Final Dawn is breaking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still faithful, though the world’s regard may cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will honour, splendid in triumphant waking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The souls of women, lonely here at peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O golden Isle with purple shadows falling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across thy rocky shore and sapphire sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall not picture these without recalling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Sisters sleeping on the heart of thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">H.M.H.S. “<span class="smcap">Britannic</span>,” <span class="smcap">Mudros</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>October 1916.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IN_MEMORIAM_GRYT" id="IN_MEMORIAM_GRYT"></a>IN MEMORIAM: G.R.Y.T.</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">Killed in Action, April 23rd, 1917</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I spoke</span> with you but seldom, yet there lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some nameless glamour in your written word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thoughts of you rose often—longings stirred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By dear remembrance of the sad blue-grey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dwelt within your eyes, the even sway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of your young god-like gait, the rarely heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But frank bright laughter, hallowed by a Day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That made of Youth Right’s offering to the sword.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So now I ponder, since your day is done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere dawn was past, on all you meant to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the more you might have come to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wonder if some state, beyond the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shadows here, may yet completion see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of intimacy sweet though scarce begun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Malta</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>May 1917.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_PARTING_WORD" id="A_PARTING_WORD"></a>A PARTING WORD</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">To a Fortunate Friend</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> you should be too happy in your days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never know an hour of vain regret,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do not forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That still the shadows darken all my ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If sunshine sweeter still should light your years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you lose nought of all you dearly prize,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Turn not your eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From my steep track of anguish and of tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if perhaps your love of me is less<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than I with all my need of you would choose,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do not refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To love enough to lighten my distress.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if the future days should parting see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of our so different paths that lately met,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Remember yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those days of storm you weathered through with me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Malta</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>May 1917.</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_MY_BROTHER" id="TO_MY_BROTHER"></a>TO MY BROTHER<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">In memory of July 1st, 1916</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Your</span> battle-wounds are scars upon my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Received when in that grand and tragic “show”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You played your part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two years ago,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And silver in the summer morning sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see the symbol of your courage glow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Cross you won<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though now again you watch the shrapnel fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hear the guns that daily louder grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in July<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two years ago,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">May you endure to lead the Last Advance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with your men pursue the flying foe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As once in France<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two years ago.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Captain E. H. Brittain, M.C. Written four days before his -death in action in the Austrian offensive on the Italian Front, June -15th, 1918.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SIC_TRANSIT" id="SIC_TRANSIT"></a>SIC TRANSIT——</h2> - -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">V.R., Died of Wounds, 2nd London General Hospital, Chelsea, June 9th, -1917</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I am</span> so tired.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dying sun incarnadines the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every window with its gold is fired,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all I loved the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone, and every good that I desired<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Passes away, an idle hopeless quest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the Highest whereto I aspired<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has vanished with the rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am so tired.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">London</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>June 1917.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_THEM" id="TO_THEM"></a>TO THEM</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I hear</span> your voices in the whispering trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see your footprints on each grassy track,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your laughter echoes gaily down the breeze—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But you will not come back.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The twilight skies are tender with your smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars look down with eyes for which I yearn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dream that you are with me all the while—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But you will not return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flowers are gay in gardens that you knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The woods you loved are sweet with summer rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fields you trod are empty now, but you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will never come again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>June 1917.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="OXFORD_REVISITED" id="OXFORD_REVISITED"></a>OXFORD REVISITED</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">There’s</span> a gleam of sun on the grey old street<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where we used to walk in the Oxford days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dream that the world lay beneath our feet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the dawn of a summer morning.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now the years have passed, and it’s we who lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crushed under the burden of world-wide woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the misty magic will never die<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the dawn of an Oxford morning.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the end delays, and perhaps no more<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall see the spires of my youth’s delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But they’ll gladden my eyes as in days of yore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the dawn of Eternal Morning.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>June 1917.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THAT_WHICH_REMAINETH" id="THAT_WHICH_REMAINETH"></a>THAT WHICH REMAINETH</h2> - -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">In Memory of Captain E. H. Brittain, M.C.</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Only</span> the thought of a merry smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wistful dreaming of sad brown eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A brave young warrior, face aglow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the light of a lofty enterprise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only the hope of a gallant heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The steady strife for a deathless crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Memory’s treasures, radiant now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the gleam of a goal beyond renown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only the tale of a dream fulfilled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A strenuous day and a well-fought fight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fearless leader who laughed at Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fitting end of a gentle knight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only a Cross on a mountain side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The close of a journey short and rough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sword laid down and a stainless shield—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more—and yet, is it not enough?<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_GERMAN_WARD" id="THE_GERMAN_WARD"></a>THE GERMAN WARD</h2> -<p class="cnar">(“<span class="smcap">Inter arma caritas</span>”)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">When</span> the years of strife are over and my recollection fades<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the wards wherein I worked the weeks away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall still see, as a vision rising ’mid the War-time shades,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ward in France where German wounded lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall see the pallid faces and the half-suspicious eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall hear the bitter groans and laboured breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And recall the loud complaining and the weary tedious cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sights and smells of blood and wounds and death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall see the convoy cases, blanket-covered on the floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watch the heavy stretcher-work begin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the gleam of knives and bottles through the open theatre door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the operation patients carried in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall see the Sister standing, with her form of youthful grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the humour and the wisdom of her smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the tale of three years’ warfare on her thin expressive face—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weariness of many a toil-filled while.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall think of how I worked for her with nerve and heart and mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And marvelled at her courage and her skill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how the dying enemy her tenderness would find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath her scornful energy of will.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I learnt that human mercy turns alike to friend or foe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the darkest hour of all is creeping nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those who slew our dearest, when their lamps were burning low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Found help and pity ere they came to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, though much will be forgotten when the sound of War’s alarms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the days of death and strife have passed away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall always see the vision of Love working amidst arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the ward wherein the wounded prisoners lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">France</span>,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>September 1917.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TROOP-TRAIN" id="THE_TROOP-TRAIN"></a>THE TROOP-TRAIN</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">France, 1917</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">As</span> we came down from Amiens,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And they went up the line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They waved their careless hands to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cheered the Red Cross sign.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And often I have wondered since,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Repicturing that train,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How many of those laughing souls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came down the line again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_MY_WARD-SISTER" id="TO_MY_WARD-SISTER"></a>TO MY WARD-SISTER</h2> -<p class="cnar"><span class="smcap">Night Duty, December 1917</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Through</span> the night-watches of our House of Sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In capable serenity of mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You steadily achieve the tasks designed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With calm, half-smiling, interested eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though all-unknowing, confidently wise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Concerning pain you never felt, you find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Content from uneventful years arise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As you toil on, mechanically kind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So thus far have your smooth days passed, but when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tempest none escape shall cloud your sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Life grow dark around you, through your pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’ll learn the meaning of your mercy then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To those who blessed you as you passed them by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor seek to tread the untroubled road again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">France.</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_ANOTHER_SISTER" id="TO_ANOTHER_SISTER"></a>TO ANOTHER SISTER</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I knew</span> that you had suffered many things,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I could see your eyes would often weep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through bitter midnight hours when others sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in your smile the lurking scorn that springs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From cruel knowledge of a love, once deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grown gradually cold, until the stings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pierce mercilessly of a past that clings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Undying to your lonely path and steep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, loved and honoured leader, I would pray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hidden future days may hold in store<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some solace for your yearning even yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in some joy to come you may forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The burdened toil you will not suffer more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see the War-time shadows fade away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">France</span>, <i>1918</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VENGEANCE_IS_MINE" id="VENGEANCE_IS_MINE"></a>“VENGEANCE IS MINE”</h2> - -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">In Memory of the Sisters who died in the Great Air Raid upon -Hospitals at Étaples</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Who</span> shall avenge us for anguish unnamable,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rivers of scarlet and crosses of grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Terror of night-time and blood-lust untamable,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hate without pity where broken we lay?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How could we help them, in agony calling us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those whom we laboured to comfort and save,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How still their moaning, whose hour was befalling us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crushed in a horror more dark than the grave?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Burning of canvas and smashing of wood above—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Havoc of Mercy’s toil—shall He forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Us that have fallen, Who numbers in gracious love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each tiny creature whose life is man’s debt?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will He not hear us, though speech is now failing us—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Voices too feeble to utter a cry?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall they not answer, the foemen assailing us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Women who suffer and women who die?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who shall avenge us for anguish unnamable,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rivers of scarlet and crosses of grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Terror of night-time and blood-lust untamable,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hate without pity where broken we lay?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WAR" id="WAR"></a>WAR</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">The Great German Offensive, March—May 1918</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A night</span> of storm and thunder crashing by,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A bitter night of tempest and of rain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then calm at dawn beneath a wind-swept sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And broken flowers that will not bloom again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An age of Death and Agony and Tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cruel age of woe unguessed before—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then peace to close the weary storm-wrecked years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And broken hearts that bleed for evermore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">France.</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_LAST_POST" id="THE_LAST_POST"></a>THE LAST POST</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> stars are shining bright above the camps,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bugle calls float skyward, faintly clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the hill the mist-veiled motor lamps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dwindle and disappear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The notes of day’s good-bye arise and blend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the low murmurous hum from tree and sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swell into that question at the end<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They ask each night of God—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whether the dead within the burial ground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will ever overthrow their crosses grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rise triumphant from each lowly mound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To greet the dawning day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whether the eyes which battle sealed in sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will open to reveillé once again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And forms, once mangled, into rapture leap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forgetful of their pain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But still the stars above the camp shine on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Giving no answer for our sorrow’s ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one more day with the Last Post has gone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dying upon the breeze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Étaples</span>, <i>1918</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_ASPIRANT" id="THE_ASPIRANT"></a>THE ASPIRANT</h2> -<p class="cnar">(<span class="smcap">A Plea</span>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Because</span> I dare to stand outside the gate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that high temple wherein Fame abides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loudly knock, too eager to await<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whate’er betides,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">May God forgive, since He alone can see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The joys that others have but I must miss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For how shall Compensation come to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If not through this?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p> </p> - -<p class="c"><small><i>Prin<span class="ov">ted by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesb</span>ury.</i></small></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Verses of a V.A.D., by Vera Mary Brittain - 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