PART III—OTHER VERSES

My Sapphire The Twins On Sending My Book to an English Friend Immortal Keats To a Little Girl God The Golden Day Notes

MY COMRADES IN THE RANKS.

You chose no easy Service, No safe job, friends of mine, But the mud of the shell-torn, trenches And the foremost battle-line. No camouflage patriotism— Though you had from a wealth to choose But the wicked work of No Man’s Land, Filling a man’s-size shoes.

You didn’t say you wouldn’t play If you got no shoulder bars— You even placed your Country Above a general’s stars: For shocking, very shocking, You didn’t give a damn About your “social status,” When you fought for Uncle Sam.

Friends of mine, friends of mine, I’ve shared your toil and tears— Your dangers and your little woes, When days were turned to years. I may not make them understand The things that you have done, But God bless you and God keep you— Every blessed mother’s son.