THEIR FRAILTY
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e's got a Blighty wound. He's safe; and thenWar's fine and bold and bright.She can forget the doomed and prisoned menWho agonize and fight. He's back in France. She loathes the listless strainAnd peril of his plight.Beseeching Heaven to send him home again,She prays for peace each night. Husbands and sons and lovers; everywhereThey die; War bleeds us white.Mothers and wives and sweethearts,--they don't careSo long as He's all right.
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