Part 15

I did not think that I would ever miss you, I did not dream the time would come to be When I would long to touch your hand, to kiss you-- To hear your voice say tender words to me. I did not know that I would wonder whether My head would rest, once more, against your heart.... War came, my dear, and drew us close together, Although it swept us many miles apart!

WHEN YOU WENT BY

I stood in the rain and watched you pass, I stood in the blinding rain.... And I thought of a fragrant summer night, When the room was glowing with candlelight, And a shower beat on the window glass With a wonderful, low refrain. I thought of your arms that held me tight, And your eyes that were near and warmly bright; I thought of--all, as I watched you pass, And my soul was wrung with pain.

"Tramp, tramp, tramp!" rang your column's tread. "Tramp, tramp, tramp!" through the street. (Ah, dear, it was summer once, and there Were flower scents on the misty air-- Honeysuckle and mignonette, poignantly, sadly sweet!) "Tramp, tramp, tramp!" rang your column's tread, And my eyes were dim as I bowed my head; And my heart seemed broken and old and dead, Under your marching feet.

I stood in the rain and watched you pass-- There in the autumn rain.... And I thought, my dear, of the night when you Had kissed me first. (Ah, your eyes were blue, And very tender, and Heaven-true, There in the candlelight!) I thought of a misty summer night, When a shower fell on the vivid grass (There, through the rain, I watched you pass!) I thought of a mystic summer night That never may come again.

"TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP!" RANG YOUR COLUMN'S TREAD, "TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP!" IN THE STREET; AND I TRIED TO SMILE--WITH A LIFTED HEAD-- BUT MY HEART LAY, CRUSHED, AT YOUR FEET!

IN MEMORIAM

To an American Aviator

He went to battle in the mist-hung sky, Like some gold-hearted bird with pinions strong; He went with courage, with a snatch of song, In all his splendid youth! And God on high Looked down with love to watch him dip and fly, Then lifted him to where the brave belong. He went to right a bleeding nation's wrong, And proved that he was not afraid to die!

So we, who stare across the lonely hours, Must only think of that great gift he gave; Must think of other lives that his will save; And know that, when the tender, healing showers Have fallen in a stranger-land, the flowers Will bloom, like prayers, upon a hero's grave!

A PEASANT GIRL SINGS

Somewhere, Out There, he is--just a boy, that's all-- (Laughter sparkled in his eyes--he was always singing!) Just a boy who answered when he heard his country's call; (Somewhere, Out There, he is--how my thoughts go winging--) Ready to do or dare, (Like sunlight was his hair,) Just a boy, a laughing boy, Somewhere, Out There.

Idle my wheel, to-day, hushed is it's spinning-- (Ah, but his eyes were blue--blue as the sea--) Somewhere, Out There, he is... Losing--or winning! (Boy with the carefree heart, come back to me!) Blood red the cannon's flare, (God, can you hear my prayer?) Keep him, my boy, from harm-- Somewhere, Out There.

TOGETHER

THEY LAY TOGETHER IN THE SUN AND WAITED FOR THE END; SIDE BY SIDE, TOGETHER, BEARDED FOE AND FRIEND; JEAN FROM THE PLEASANT FIELDS OF SINGING, SOUTHERN FRANCE, JEAN FROM THE POPPY FIELDS SIGHING WITH ROMANCE; FRITZ FROM A FATHERLAND HE BLINDLY LOVED AND SERVED, FRITZ WHOSE SOFT-NOSED BULLETS HAD NEVER FLINCHED NOR SWERVED; AND PETER, WHOSE TIRED EYES WERE WIDE AND DEEP AND BROWN, PETER FROM DELANCEY STREET, IN NEW YORK TOWN.

They didn't speak, these three, They didn't know each other's tongue; And, then, When men Whose songs are nearly sung Are lying side by side, Their breathing not so... free, The gulf is rather wide.

In the sun they lay there; And Fritz's hair Was very bright. He was a foe To kill on sight-- And yet the light Upon his hair was so, So very fair....

Jean found himself remembering HER hair; Of palest gold it was, a magic snare To net men's soul in! She had bade him go, Sobbing, "Je t'aime"--which means, "I love you so!" Her hair--her hands--her lips, Red as a sunset cloud when daytime slips Into the night. No, redder! Like a flower That blooms upon the earth for just an hour; A poppy flower, fragile, soft.... HER LIPS Red as the heart-blood of a man, that drips Into eternity.... Jean sighed, And died.

PERHAPS HER LIPS WERE VERY NEAR--WHO KNOWS? WHEN EYES MUST CLOSE AGAINST THE SUN, AND LIFE, WHO CARES? ONE ONLY DARES TO WONDER!

Fritz lay still. He felt the strength, the faith, the stubborn will, Drop from him like worn garments, till he lay Half-frightened in the burning light of day. He had killed many, yes.... From under His tunic, gropingly, he drew a cross; He wondered would it make, for her, the loss A little less? Ah, to press His bearded lips once more upon her cheek, To hear her speak....

Yes, he had killed, and killed-- And he had thrilled To do it.... But just to sit Beside her, in the shade, THAT had been paradise! Her soft arms laid About his throat.... THEY STRANGLED HIM-- His eyes grew dim.... He choked--once... twice....

Peter from Delancey Street, laughed with white- lipped pluck. "Dyin' side o' HIM!" he coughed. "Ain't it rotten luck! "Poor guy, they got him, though--got him same as me...." Peter, from Delancey Street, stopped talking suddenly.

He saw-- A candy store, On the busy, smelly corner of a crowded city slum; He heard the hum Of traffic in the street, The sound of feet Upon the pavement; and he saw, Behind the counter there, THE GIRL. She wore Her hair Plastered tight to her little shell-like ears. He felt her tears Upon his face The night he told her that he'd left his place, His steady paying job, to go and fight.

"Good night!" He'd said to her. "Somebody's gotta go! Yerself, you know, We gotta STIR T'lick them fellers Over There!" Her slicked-back hair Had roughened up against his khaki sleeve, And she had cried: "Dear, MUST you leave?" And he had dried Her eyes, and smudged the powder on her nose....

"Here goes!" Said Peter of Delancey Street. He saw A candy store-- A city slum, a girl with plastered hair, Who waited there....

THEY LAY TOGETHER IN THE SUN--BRAVELY TO THE END, SIDE BY SIDE, TOGETHER, BEARDED FOE AND FRIEND. JEAN FROM THE POPPY FIELDS, SIGHING WITH ROMANCE, JEAN FROM THE LAUGHTER-LILTING FIELDS OF SOUTHERN FRANCE; FRITZ FROM A FATHERLAND HE BLINDLY LOVED AND SERVED, FRITZ, WHOSE FAITH, ALTHOUGH BETRAYED, HAD NEVER FLINCHED OR SWERVED; AND PETER, WHOSE TIRED EYES WERE QUESTIONING AND BROWN, PETER, FROM DELANCEY STREET, IN NEW YORK TOWN.

JIM-DOG

He wasn't, well, a fancy kind o' dog-- Not Jim! But, oh, I sorter couldn't seem ter help A-lovin' him. He always seemed ter understand. He'd rub his nose against my hand If I was feelin' blue or sad. Or if my thoughts was pretty bad; An' how he'd bark an' frisk an' play When I was gay!