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“EQUALITY OF SACRIFICE” A. “I was a ‘Have.’” B. “I was a ‘have-not.’” | |
| (Together.) “What hast thou given which I gave not?” | |
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A SERVANT We were together since the War began. | |
| He was my servant—and the better man. | |
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A SON My son was killed while laughing at some jest. I would I knew | 5 |
| What it was, and it might serve me in a time when jests are few. | |
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AN ONLY SON I have slain none except my Mother. She | |
| (Blessing her slayer) died of grief for me. | |
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EX-CLERK Pity not! The Army gave | |
| Freedom to a timid slave: | 10 |
| In which Freedom did he find | |
| Strength of body, will, and mind: | |
| By which strength he came to prove | |
| Mirth, Companionship, and Love: | |
| For which Love to Death he went: | 15 |
| In which Death he lies content. | |
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THE WONDER Body and Spirit I surrendered whole | |
| To harsh Instructors—and received a soul … | |
| If mortal man could change me through and through | |
| From all I was—what may The God not do? | 20 |
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HINDU SEPOY IN FRANCE This man in his own country prayed we know not to what Powers. | |
| We pray Them to reward him for his bravery in ours. | |
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THE COWARD I could not look on Death, which being known, | |
| Men led me to him, blindfold and alone. | |
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SHOCK My name, my speech, my self I had forgot. | 25 |
| My wife and children came—I knew them not. | |
| I died. My Mother followed. At her call | |
| And on her bosom I remembered all. | |
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A GRAVE NEAR CAIRO Gods of the Nile, should this stout fellow here | |
| Get out—get out! He knows not shame nor fear. | 30 |
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PELICANS IN THE WILDERNESS
(A GRAVE NEAR HALFA) The blown sand heaps on me, that none may learn | |
| Where I am laid for whom my children grieve…. | |
| O wings that beat at dawning, ye return | |
| Out of the desert to your young at eve! | |
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THE FAVOUR Death favoured me from the first, well knowing I could not endure | 35 |
| To wait on him day by day. He quitted my betters and came | |
| Whistling over the fields, and, when he had made all sure, | |
| “Thy line is at end,” he said, “but at least I have saved its name.” | |
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THE BEGINNER On the first hour of my first day | |
| In the front trench I fell. | 40 |
| (Children in boxes at a play | |
| Stand up to watch it well.) | |
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R. A. F. (AGED EIGHTEEN) Laughing through clouds, his milk-teeth still unshed, | |
| Cities and men he smote from overhead. | |
| His deaths delivered, he returned to play | 45 |
| Childlike, with childish things now put away. | |
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THE REFINED MAN I was of delicate mind. I stepped aside for my needs, | |
| Disdaining the common office. I was seen from afar and killed…. | |
| How is this matter for mirth? Let each man be judged by his deeds. | |
| I have paid my price to live with myself on the terms that I willed. | 50 |
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NATIVE WATER-CARRIER (M. E. F.) Prometheus brought down fire to men. | |
| This brought up water. | |
| The Gods are jealous—now, as then, | |
| Giving no quarter. | |
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BOMBED IN LONDON On land and sea I strove with anxious care | 55 |
| To escape conscription. It was in the air! | |
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THE SLEEPY SENTINEL Faithless the watch that I kept: now I have none to keep. | |
| I was slain because I slept: now I am slain I sleep. | |
| Let no man reproach me again, whatever watch is unkept— | |
| I sleep because I am slain. They slew me because I slept. | 60 |
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BATTERIES OUT OF AMMUNITION If any mourn us in the workshop, say | |
| We died because the shift kept holiday. | |
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COMMON FORM If any question why we died, | |
| Tell them, because our fathers lied. | |
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A DEAD STATESMAN I could not dig: I dared not rob: | 65 |
| Therefore I lied to please the mob. | |
| Now all my lies are proved untrue | |
| And I must face the men I slew. | |
| What tale shall serve me here among | |
| Mine angry and defrauded young? | 70 |
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THE REBEL If I had clamoured at Thy Gate | |
| For gift of Life on Earth, | |
| And, thrusting through the souls that wait, | |
| Flung headlong into birth— | |
| Even then, even then, for gin and snare | 75 |
| About my pathway spread, | |
| Lord, I had mocked Thy thoughtful care | |
| Before I joined the Dead! | |
| But now?… I was beneath Thy Hand | |
| Ere yet the Planets came. | 80 |
| And now—though Planets pass, I stand | |
| The witness to Thy shame. | |
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THE OBEDIENT Daily, though no ears attended, | |
| Did my prayers arise. | |
| Daily, though no fire descended | 85 |
| Did I sacrifice. | |
| Though my darkness did not lift, | |
| Though I faced no lighter odds, | |
| Though the Gods bestowed no gift, | |
| None the less, | 90 |
| None the less, I served the Gods! | |
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A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM He from the wind-bitten north with ship and companions descended. | |
| Searching for eggs of death spawned by invisible hulls. | |
| Many he found and drew forth. Of a sudden the fishery ended | |
| In flame and a clamorous breath not new to the eye-pecking gulls. | 95 |
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DESTROYERS IN COLLISION For Fog and Fate no charm is found | |
| To lighten or amend. | |
| I, hurrying to my bride, was drowned— | |
| Cut down by my best friend. | |
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CONVOY ESCORT I was a shepherd to fools | 100 |
| Causelessly bold or afraid. | |
| They would not abide by my rules. | |
| Yet they escaped. For I stayed. | |
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UNKNOWN FEMALE CORPSE Headless, lacking foot and hand, | |
| Horrible I come to land. | 105 |
| I beseech all women’s sons | |
| Know I was a mother once. | |
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RAPED AND REVENGED One used and butchered me: another spied | |
| Me broken—for which thing an hundred died. | |
| So it was learned among the heathen hosts | 110 |
| How much a freeborn woman’s favour costs. | |
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SALONIKAN GRAVE I have watched a thousand days | |
| Push out and crawl into night | |
| Slowly as tortoises. | |
| Now I, too, follow these. | 115 |
| It is fever, and not the fight— | |
| Time, not battle—that slays. | |
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THE BRIDEGROOM Call me not false, beloved, | |
| If, from thy scarce-known breast | |
| So little time removed, | 120 |
| In other arms I rest. | |
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| For this more ancient bride | |
| Whom coldly I embrace | |
| Was constant at my side | |
| Before I saw thy face. | 125 |
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| Our marriage, often set— | |
| By miracle delayed— | |
| At last is consummate, | |
| And cannot be unmade. | |
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| Live, then, whom Life shall cure, | 130 |
| Almost, of Memory, | |
| And leave us to endure | |
| Its immortality. | |
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V. A. D. (MEDITERRANEAN) Ah, would swift ships had never been, for then we ne’er had found, | |
| These harsh Ægean rocks between, this little virgin drowned, | 135 |
| Whom neither spouse nor child shall mourn, but men she nursed through pain | |
| And—certain keels for whose return the heathen look in vain. | |
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