Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/196

154 After all, somebody's got to be ready,

And tons of the blighters 'll get their ticket.

Wars don't cease."

"Young soldier, what will you be

At the day's end?"

"Tired's what I'll be. I shall lie on the beach

Of a shore where the rippling waves just sigh,

And listen and dream and sleep and lie

Forgetting what I've had to learn and teach

And attack and defend."

"Young soldier, what will you be

When you're next a-bed?"

"God knows what; but it doesn't matter,

For whenever I think, I always remember

The Belgians massacred that September,

And England's pledge—and the rest seems chatter.

What if I am dead?"

"Young soldier, what will you be

When it's all done?"

"I shall come back and live alone

On an English farm in the Sussex Weald,

Where the wounds in my mind will be slowly sealed,

And the graves in my heart will be overgrown;

And I'll sit in the sun."