A child - so wasted and so white, He told a lie to get his way, To march, a man with men, and fight While other boys are still at play. A gallant lie… - Eva Dobell

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.

Somehow for me these common tunes
Can never sound the same again:
They've magic now to thrill my heart
And bring before me, clear and plain,
Man that is master of his flesh,
And has the laugh of death and pain.

I dreamt last night Christ came to earth again To bless His own. My soul from place to place On her dream-quest sped, seeking for His face Through temple and town and lovely land, in vain. Then came I to a place where death and pain
Had made of God's sweet world a waste forlorn, With shattered trees and meadows gashed and torn, Where the grim trenches scarred the shell-sheared plain.