George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917.
Robert Nichols
Fulfilment
W
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir
More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine.
Lined by the wind, burned by the sun;
Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth,
As whose children we are brethren: one.
To shatter limbs! Pulp, tear, blast
Beloved soldiers who love rough, life and breath
Not less for dying faithful to the last.
Oped mouth gushing, fallen head,
Lessening pressure of a hand, shrunk, clammed and stony!
O sudden spasm, release of the dead!
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier,
All, all my joy, my grief, my love, are thine.