"But so our woe began. That morning we had breakfast in our room, And I was thinking, in an absent way Responded to her laughter, joyous ways. For I was thinking of my life again, Of love that still eluded me, was bored Because I sat there, did not have the spirit To share her buoyancy--or was it such? Did she not ripple merriment to hide Her disappointment, wake me if she could? And spite of what I thought of her before That she had known another man or men, I thought now I was first. And to let down, Slope off the event, our parting for the day Have no abruptness, I invited her To luncheon, when I left her 'twas to meet Again at noon. We met and parted then. So now it seemed a thing achieved. Two weeks Elapsed before I telephoned her. Then The story we repeated as before, Same room and all. But meantime we had sat Some moments over tea, the orchestra Played Chopin for her." "Then she handed me A little box, I opened it and found A locket too ornate, her picture in it, A little flag." "So in that moment there Love came to me for Elenor Murray. Music, That poor pathetic locket, and her way So humble, so devoted, and the thought Of those months past, wherein she never swerved From ways of love, in spite of all my moods, Half-hearted, distant--these combined at once, And with a flame that rose up silently Consumed my heart with love." "She went away, And left me hungering, lonely. She returned, And saw at last dubieties no more, The answering light for her within my eyes." "I must recur a little here to say That at the first, first meeting it may be, With Janet, there at tea, she said to me She had signed for the war, would go to France, To nurse the soldiers. You cannot remember What people say at first, before you know, Have interest in them. Also at that time I had no interest in the war, believed The war would end before we took a hand. The war lay out of me, objectified Like news of earthquakes in Japan. And then As time went on she said: 'I do not know What day I shall be called, the time's at hand.' I loathed the Germans then; but loathed the war, The hatred, lying, which it bred, the filth Spewed over Europe, from the war, on us At last. I loathed it all, and saw The spirit of the world debauched and fouled With blood and falsehood."