| The Soldier | |
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| Sophie Jewett (from The Pilgrim and Other Poems, published under the name Ellen Burroughs, 1896) | |
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“Non vi si pensa quanto sangue costa.” Paradiso xxix, 91. The soldier fought his battle silently. Not his the strife that stays for set of sun; It seemed this warfare never might be done; Through glaring day and blinding night fought he. There came no hand to help, no eye to see; No herald's voice proclaimed the fight begun; No trumpet, when the bitter field was won, Sounded abroad the soldier's victory. As if the struggle had been light, he went, Gladly, life's common road a little space; Nor any knew how his heart's blood was spent; Yet there were some who after testified They saw a glory grow upon his face; And all men praised the soldier when he died. |
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| Armistice | |
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| Sophie Jewett (from The Pilgrim and Other Poems, published under the name Ellen Burroughs, 1896) | |
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The water sings along our keel, The wind falls to a whispering breath; I look into your eyes and feel No fear of life or death; So near is love, so far away The losing strife of yesterday. We watch the swallow skim and dip; Some magic bids the world be still; Life stands with finger upon lip; Love hath his gentle will; Though hearts have bled, and tears have burned, The river floweth unconcerned. We pray the fickle flag of truce Still float deceitfully and fair; Our eyes must love its sweet abuse; This hour we will not care, Though just beyond to-morrow’s gate, Arrayed and strong, the battle wait. 
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Next page > “War Is Kind” by Stephen Crane (1899)... |
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