Poetical Pictures of the Great War :: :: University of Virginia Library

Keen is the wind, although the sun is bright,
But where's the sun for me! It seems the day
On which I won my Lucy. As we walked
Home from the village church life was a-glow
With love, and health, and peace. Then comes this war,
And I am forced to go, leaving behind
My wife and babes—to face the world alone.
Soon am I wounded—feel the stinging pain
And swoon. When consciousness comes back to me
Maimed am I all my days. Soon am I told
No longer am I needed—that a pittance
Is graciously bestowed, but at the pleasure
Of those above me. Stand I here, ay, here,
Craving mutely for alms. I who have given
More than my life to keep my Britain free!

Yon carriage splashes me! My betters say
Not by their words, but by their deeds, 'tis right
That I endure in silence! Yet my lord
Who drives, had not been here this afternoon
In splendour and in comfort, were it not
For me and such as me;—yon gay, young lady
Who walks erstwhile, caressing her pet dog,
Looks on me coldly! Then, like to the man,
Of whom the Bible, in its candour, speaks,
Passes upon the other side! Well! Well!
I'd rather face the hail of hostile bullets!
Death would I rather face, than life! if life
Brings me such cruelty, such bitter scorn!