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Then faded, and an eyeless man
He crawled along the wood,
And from his hair a black line ran
And broaden’d into blood.
It was not horror of him wrong’d,
It was not pity mov’d me;
It was, those tortur’d eyes belong’d
To one who’d never lov’d me.

That was my love in face and shape,
That was my love in pain;
But something told me past escape
That not by him I’d lain.
I sat and star’d into the night,
And still most dreadfully
I saw those two eyes burning white
That never had seen me!

vii

Upon a wild March morn
My husband went to France;
The day my child was born
His word came to advance.

‘Twas on that very day
When my life should be crown’d,
As I lay in, he lay
Broken upon the ground.

For my loss there was gain,
But his precious blood
Was shed to earth like rain
Within the shatter’d wood.

Missing, the paper said,
But my heart said, Nay.
Missing! My man had been dead
Before he went away!

viii

It never throve from the first,
Mother, she seem’d to fear it;
But her words were the worst:
“Nancy, you’ll never rear it.”

Yet he took to the breast
And I knew the great end
Of women, to give their best,
To spend and to spend.

But his great eyes stared
Till he seemed all eyes,
And more than I dared
Meet looks so wise.

Wondering and darkly blue,
Pondering and slow,
They would look you thro’ and thro’,
Then tire and let you go,

And fall back to vacancy,
As if the poor thing plain’d,
“Why was I not let be,
And what have I gain’d?”

‘Twas more than I could bear,
I pray’d that he might die;
And God must have heard my prayer,
For he went with a little sigh:

A flutter, a murmur, a sigh
Lighter than dawn wind–
It was his soft Good-bye;
And all my life lay behind.

I wonder if they were wise,
Those three kings of the East
Who offer’d gifts of price
To the Child on a Girl’s breast.

But if they were wise, their sons
Have other counsel than they:
The gifts they offer are guns,
And the children’s parents they slay.

ix

He went before my load was quicken’d,
And I lay in alone.
He was not there when baby sicken’d,
Nor when it was gone.
I walkt with Mother to the church,
With Mother and Fan,
My hard eyes ever on the search–
Pity me who can!

The grief was bad enough to bear,
So dreadfully to wean it;
But to go home and leave it there,
And he had never seen it–!
It was a thing to thank God for
That home for me was none;
I knew before we reacht the door
That my home life was done.

x

Now limpt or dragg’d about our street
The wounded men in blue,
Trailing the feet which had been fleet,
Or crutching one for two;
Like ghosts of men past out of ken,
Pale and uncertain-eyed,
Whose gaze would flicker out, and then
Come back with hasty pride.

What they had seen they never told,
Nor what they had done:
I saw young lads turn’d suddenly old;
I saw the blind in the sun
Look up to pray, as if the blue
Was shapt like a cross:
There came back one my husband knew,
Spoke kindly of my loss.

He told me how my love was dead;
He was not the first!
Broadcast our land the word of dread
Told women the worst.
They say, let love and light be given
So we keep Liberty;
But I say there is no more Heaven
If men must so be free.