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THE WOUNDED CANADIAN SPEAKS: MY leg? It’s off at the knee. | |
| Do I miss it? Well, some. You see | |
| I’ve had it since I was born; | |
| And lately a devilish corn. | |
| (I rather chuckle with glee | 5 |
| To think how I’ve fooled that corn.) | |
| |
| But I’ll hobble around all right. | |
| It is n’t that, it’s my face. | |
| Oh, I know I’m a hideous sight, | |
| Hardly a thing in place. | 10 |
| Sort of gargoyle, you’d say. | |
| Nurse won’t give me a glass, | |
| But I see the folks as they pass | |
| Shudder and turn away; | |
| Turn away in distress … | 15 |
| Mirror enough, I guess. | |
| I’m gay! You bet I am gay, | |
| But I was n’t a while ago. | |
| If you’d seen me even to-day, | |
| The darnedest picture of woe, | 20 |
| With this Caliban mug of mine, | |
| So ravaged and raw and red, | |
| Turned to the wall—in fine | |
| Wishing that I was dead…. | |
| What has happened since then, | 25 |
| Since I lay with my face to the wall, | |
| The most despairing of men! | |
| Listen! I’ll tell you all. | |
| |
| That poilu across the way, | |
| With the shrapnel wound on his head, | 30 |
| Has a sister: she came to-day | |
| To sit awhile by his bed. | |
| All morning I heard him fret: | |
| “Oh, when will she come, Fleurette?” | |
| |
| Then sudden, a joyous cry; | 35 |
| The tripping of little feet; | |
| The softest, tenderest sigh; | |
| A voice so fresh and sweet; | |
| Clear as a silver bell, | |
| Fresh as the morning dews: | 40 |
| “C’est toi, c’est toi, Marcel! | |
| Mon frère, comme je suis heureuse!” | |
| |
| So over the blanket’s rim | |
| I raised my terrible face, | |
| And I saw—how I envied him! | 45 |
| A girl of such delicate grace; | |
| Sixteen, all laughter and love; | |
| As gay as a linnet, and yet | |
| As tenderly sweet as a dove; | |
| Half woman, half child—Fleurette. | 50 |
| Then I turned to the wall again. | |
| (I was awfully blue, you see,) | |
| And I thought with a bitter pain: | |
| “Such visions are not for me.” | |
| So there like a log I lay, | 55 |
| All hidden, I thought, from view, | |
| When sudden I heard her say: | |
| “Ah! Who is that malheureux?” | |
| Then briefly I heard him tell | |
| (However he came to know) | 60 |
| How I’d smothered a bomb that fell | |
| Into the trench, and so | |
| None of my men were hit, | |
| Though it busted me up a bit. | |
| |
| Well, I did n’t quiver an eye, | 65 |
| And he chattered and there she sat; | |
| And I fancied I heard her sigh— | |
| But I would n’t just swear to that. | |
| And maybe she was n’t so bright, | |
| Though she talked in a merry strain, | 70 |
| And I closed my eyes ever so tight, | |
| Yet I saw her ever so plain: | |
| Her dear little tilted nose, | |
| Her delicate, dimpled chin, | |
| Her mouth like a budding rose, | 75 |
| And the glistening pearls within; | |
| Her eyes like the violet: | |
| Such a rare little queen—Fleurette. | |
| |
| And at last when she rose to go, | |
| The light was a little dim, | 80 |
| And I ventured to peep, and so | |
| I saw her, graceful and slim, | |
| And she kissed him and kissed him, and oh | |
| How I envied and envied him! | |
| |
| So when she was gone I said | 85 |
| In rather a dreary voice | |
| To him of the opposite bed: | |
| “Ah, friend, how you must rejoice! | |
| But me, I’m a thing of dread. | |
| For me nevermore the bliss, | 90 |
| The thrill of a woman’s kiss.” | |
| |
| Then I stopped, for lo! she was there, | |
| And a great light shone in her eyes. | |
| And me! I could only stare, | |
| I was taken so by surprise, | 95 |
| When gently she bent her head: | |
| “May I kiss you, sergeant?” she said. | |
| |
| Then she kissed my burning lips, | |
| With her mouth like a scented flower, | |
| And I thrilled to the finger-tips, | 100 |
| And I had n’t even the power | |
| To say: “God bless you, dear!” | |
| And I felt such a precious tear | |
| Fall on my withered cheek, | |
| And darn it! I could n’t speak. | 105 |
| |
| And so she went sadly away, | |
| And I know that my eyes were wet. | |
| Ah, not to my dying day | |
| Will I forget, forget! | |
| Can you wonder now I am gay? | 110 |
| God bless her, that little Fleurette! | |
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