Their FrailtyHe's got a Blighty wound. He's safe; and then War's fine and bold and bright. She can forget the doomed and prisoned men Who agonize and fight. He's back in France. She loathes the listless strain And peril of his plight, Beseeching Heaven to send him home again, She prays for peace each night. Husbands and sons and lovers; everywhere They die; War
Published on July 26, 2009 05:00