No More Learning

. . . There were five
Dropt dead beside me in the trench--and three
Whispered their dying messages to me. . . . "

Back from the trenches, more dead than alive,
Stone-deaf and dazed, and with a broken knee,
He hobbled slowly, muttering vacantly:

"I cannot quite remember. . . . There were five
Dropt dead beside me in the trench, and three
Whispered their dying messages to me. . . .
"Their friends are waiting, wondering how they thrive--
Waiting a word in silence patiently. . . .
But what they said, or who their friends may be

"I cannot quite remember. . . . There were five
Dropt dead beside me in the trench--and three
Whispered their dying messages to me. . . . "

_Wilfrid Wilson Gibson_




A CROSS IN FLANDERS

In the face of death, they say, he joked--he had no fear;
His comrades, when they laid him in a Flanders grave,
Wrote on a rough-hewn cross--a Calvary stood near--
"Without a fear he gave

"His life, cheering his men, with laughter on his lips. "
So wrote they, mourning him. Yet was there only one
Who fully understood his laughter, his gay quips,
One only, she alone--

She who, not so long since, when love was new--confest,
Herself toyed with light laughter while her eyes were dim,
And jested, while with reverence despite her jest
She worshipped God and him.

She knew--O Love, O Death!