The Great War

from More Songs By the Fighting Men, an electronic edition

To Another Poor Poet

SHALL God forget these darkling years we

spend

In poverty and misery and toil

Unlit save by a glint of faery spoil

That gleams and leads us, steadfast, to His end.

The darkling years when only Hope is friend

To Courage who, from where our foes embroil.

Still calls us onward—onward tho' the soil

Engulf both us and all that we defend?

The spoken word holds true: the swords we wield

Upended show the Cross that, potent yet.

Shall prove each wound we suffer on the field

No sacrifice made vainly to abet

A senseless purpose. Wait but for the yield

Of all our toil and—God shall not forget.