ARMEL O'CONNOR
Private, East Anglian Field Ambulance
Violet
I WOULD throw to magnificent doom
White roses at her feet.
Should she tread out the life of each bloom,
What fate could be more sweet?
I would rifle imperial graves
For rings of ancient skill;
I would bring her an army of slaves
Dependent on her will.
I would build her a wonderful home,
The place a Queen to please,
Cedar walls with an ivory dome,
Where she might dwell at ease.
Should she covet the stars or the moon,
Or, yes, the seraphim,
I am sure I should count it a boon
To satisfy her whim.
······
But I think of her beautiful face,
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