 | Under Arms |  |
16
WOUNDS.
Soldiers, through wounds obtain we glorious scars.
Titles be these of honour in our flesh,
(Which we in England's warfare have received),
Till our lives' ending. Who is stricken down
To death in battle, gathered shall be laid
Out of his comrades' arms to soldiers' rest.
Titles be these of honour in our flesh,
(Which we in England's warfare have received),
Till our lives' ending. Who is stricken down
To death in battle, gathered shall be laid
Out of his comrades' arms to soldiers' rest.
Sacred of sand and grass the silent grave,
Fenced with wild stones be in vast field henceforth,
Whereon, behold! last honour of the dead,
Few flowers, have twined his comrades hands, be laid.
Thus left we him with God. None evil beast,
Nor carrion fowl may pasture on his flesh.
Fenced with wild stones be in vast field henceforth,
Whereon, behold! last honour of the dead,
Few flowers, have twined his comrades hands, be laid.
Thus left we him with God. None evil beast,
Nor carrion fowl may pasture on his flesh.
Strong gentle hands, where it rains death, uplift,
Who wounded lie: are (swarthy though their looks),
All faithful sons of Britain's empire wide.
Who wounded lie: are (swarthy though their looks),
All faithful sons of Britain's empire wide.
17
Come is thy day, hurt soldier of the Queen,
Of weakness, when to hospital thou art borne.
It is an haven where, weary, thou hast pause
Sometime secure, from strife and dust of wars.
Of weakness, when to hospital thou art borne.
It is an haven where, weary, thou hast pause
Sometime secure, from strife and dust of wars.
How pious these white gentlewomen's hands!
Which wash, which bind, with healing salves our wounds,
Which with kind looks by day, by night keep watch,
They strong, we weak, to heal our fevered flesh.
Which wash, which bind, with healing salves our wounds,
Which with kind looks by day, by night keep watch,
They strong, we weak, to heal our fevered flesh.
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