Our marriage, often set
By miracle delayed
At last is consummate,
And cannot be unmade.
Live, then, whom Life shall cure,
Almost, of Memory,
And leave us to endure
Its immortality.
V. A. D. (MEDITERRANEAN)
Ah, would swift ships had never been, for then we ne'er had found,
These harsh ^Egean rocks between, this little virgin drowned,
Whom neither spouse nor child shall mourn, but men she nursed through pain
And—certain keels for whose return the heathen look in vain.
JUSTICE
October, 1918
ACROSS a world where all men grieve
And grieving strive the more.
The great days range like tides and leave
Our dead on every shore.
Heavy the load we undergo,
And our own hands prepare,
If we have parley with the foe,
The load our sons must bear.
