Through the long ward the gramophone Grinds out its nasal melodies: "Where did you get that girl?" it shrills. The patients listen at their ease, Thr… - Eva Dobell

Crippled for life at seventeen,
His great eyes seems to question why:
with both legs smashed it might have been
Better in that grim trench to die
Than drag maimed years out helplessly.

And through that Golgotha of blood and clay, Where watchers cursed the sick dawn, heavy-eyed, There (in my dream) Christ passed upon His way, Where His cross marks their nameless graves who died Slain for the world's salvation where all day For others' sake strong men are crucified.

One murmurs soft and low a woman's name;
And here a vet'ran soldier calm and still
As sculptured marble sleeps, and roams at will
Through eastern lands where sunbeams scorch like flame,
By rich bazaar and town, and wood-wrapt snow-crowned hill.