Verses of a V.A.D

The flowers are gay in gardens that you knew, The woods you loved are sweet with summer rain, The fields you trod are empty now, but you Will never come again

The twilight skies are tender with your smile, The stars look down with eyes for which I yearn, I dream that you are with me all the while— But you will not return

He faces not the guns he thrilled to hear, Nor sees the skyline red with fires of Hell; He looks for ever towards that dear home land He loved, but bade a resolute farewell

Perhaps some day the sun will shine again, And I shall see that still the skies are blue, And feel once more I do not live in vain, Although bereft of You

One long, sweet kiss pressed close upon my lips, One moment’s rest on your swift-beating heart, And all was over, for the hour had come For us to part

A sudden forward motion of the train, The world grown dark although the sun still shone, One last blurred look through aching tear-dimmed eyes— And you were gone.

TO MY BROTHER[A]
(In memory of July 1st, 1916)
Your battle-wounds are scars upon my heart, Received when in that grand and tragic “show” You played your part Two years ago,
And silver in the summer morning sun I see the symbol of your courage glow— That Cross you won Two years ago.
Though now again you watch the shrapnel fly, And hear the guns that daily louder grow, As in July Two years ago,
May you endure to lead the Last Advance And with your men pursue the flying foe As once in France Two years ago.
[A] Captain E. H. Brittain, M.C. Written four days before his death in action in the Austrian offensive on the Italian Front, June 15th, 1918.

ROUNDEL
(“Died of Wounds”)
Because you died, I shall not rest again, But wander ever through the lone world wide, Seeking the shadow of a dream grown vain Because you died.
I shall spend brief and idle hours beside The many lesser loves that still remain, But find in none my triumph and my pride;
And Disillusion’s slow corroding stain Will creep upon each quest but newly tried, For every striving now shall nothing gain Because you died.
France, February 1918.

PERHAPS——
(To R.A.L. Died of Wounds in France, December 23rd, 1915)
Perhaps some day the sun will shine again, And I shall see that still the skies are blue, And feel once more I do not live in vain, Although bereft of You.
Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet Will make the sunny hours of Spring seem gay, And I shall find the white May blossoms sweet, Though You have passed away.
Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright, And crimson roses once again be fair, And autumn harvest fields a rich delight, Although You are not there.
Perhaps some day I shall not shrink in pain To see the passing of the dying year, And listen to the Christmas songs again, Although You cannot hear.
But, though kind Time may many joys renew, There is one greatest joy I shall not know Again, because my heart for loss of You Was broken, long ago.
1st London General Hospital, February 1916.