"Why do you wait at your door, woman, Alone in the night?" "I am waiting for one who will come, stranger, To show him a light. He will see me afar on the road And be glad at the sight." "Have you no fear in your heart, woman, To stand there alone? There is comfort for you and kindly content Beside the hearthstone." But she answered, "No rest can I have Till I welcome my own." "Is it far he must travel to-night, This man of your heart?" "Strange lands that I know not and pitiless seas Have kept us apart, And he travels this night to his home Without guide, without chart." "And has he companions to cheer him?" "Aye, many," she said. "The candles are lighted, the hearthstones are swept, The fires glow red. We shall welcome them out of the night— Our home-coming dead."
To a Soldier in Hospital
Courage came to you with your boyhood's grace
Of ardent life and limb.
Each day new dangers steeled you to the test,
To ride, to climb, to swim.
Your hot blood taught you carelessness of death
With every breath.
So when you went to play another game
You could not but be brave:
An Empire's team, a rougher football field,
The end—perhaps your grave.
What matter? On the winning of a goal
You staked your soul.
Yes, you wore courage as you wore your youth
With carelessness and joy.
But in what Spartan school of discipline
Did you get patience, boy?
How did you learn to bear this long-drawn pain
And not complain?
Restless with throbbing hopes, with thwarted aims,
Impulsive as a colt,
How do you lie here month by weary month
Helpless, and not revolt?
What joy can these monotonous days afford
Here in a ward?
Yet you are merry as the birds in spring,
Or feign the gaiety,
Lest those who dress and tend your wound each day
Should guess the agony.
Lest they should suffer—this the only fear
You let draw near.
Greybeard philosophy has sought in books
And argument this truth,
That man is greater than his pain, but you
Have learnt it in your youth.
You know the wisdom taught by Calvary
Death would have found you brave, but braver still
You face each lagging day,
A merry Stoic, patient, chivalrous,
Divinely kind and gay.
You bear your knowledge lightly, graduate
Of unkind Fate.
Careless philosopher, the first to laugh,
The latest to complain.
Unmindful that you teach, you taught me this
In your long fight with pain:
Since God made man so good—here stands my creed—
God's good indeed.