Page:Marching Men - War Verses (1917).pdf/41



T your strong hands, O gallant men,
 * Out of the crucible of strife,

We who once gave, receive again
 * The sacrament of life.

Lightly we gave amid our joys
 * That rosed the gift to richer gain,

But you, O lion-hearted boys,
 * Give out of mortal pain!

Yea, life indeed we take from you,
 * Continuance of this mortal part,

But not what once as life we knew—
 * Never the old ease of heart.

Smiling, you faced your fearful task,
 * But we, remembering, smile no more;

Not even you may of us ask
 * That we be as before.

Leave us our tears, love's heritage,
 * Cloud-mists that blur your captured height;

Leave us our griefs, the lamp of age,
 * The altar-flame of night.