The Great War

from Herb o' Grace, an electronic edition

The Last Question

(For B. A. Bingham)

They lifted up his weary head,

Stained with a dark and bitter dew:

"How does the battle go?" he said.

Sir, it is victory," -- when he heard

He smiled the darkening shadows through

And died as blithe as a singing bird.

On the stained grass as on a bed

Dying he lay and well content --

"Sir, it is victory," they said.

So smiling, smiling all the way,

To the undying Dead hew went

As to a heavenly holiday.