When women crossed his ways, and I was wise
For him who had no wisdom. He was young,
And loathed my care, and lashed me with youth's tongue.
Splendidly merciless, casual of age, his scorn
Was sweet to me of whom his strength was born.
Besides, when he was more than six feet tall
He kept the smile he had when he was small.
And still no woman had him. I was glad
Of that—and then—O God! The world ran mad!
Almost before I knew this noise was war
Death and not women took the son I bore!
You'll know him when you see him: first of all
Because he'll smile that way when he was small.
And then his eyes! They never changed from blue
To duller gray, as other children's do,
But, like his little dreams, he kept his eyes
Vivid, and very clear, and vision-wise.
Seek for him, Mary! Bright among the ghosts
Of other women's sons he'll star those hosts
Of shining boys. (He always topped his class
At school.) Lean forward, Mary, as they pass,
And touch him. When you see his eyes you'll weep
