The Great War

from War Daubs: Poems, an electronic edition

To a Sorrowing Mother

You hide your grief, Mother,

But in lonely twilight times

You silently weep for another

Who is dead.

Alone, you mourn thus;

That he, whose only dirge was the wind,

Should be unwept by us

Who laugh:

That we should coarsely sing

In selfish merriment, unheeding,

Thoughtless of a thing

Like his death.

But, ah ! Sorrowing Mother,

Can we not also smile and hide

Our grief, who mourn a brother—

Secretly ?