````Yet, that last night! ````They had just set off ````When he pitched on his face with `````a smothered cough, ````And a row of holes in his chest. |HE left a letter. It saved `````the lives ````Of the three who ran from the ````Gas; ````A small enclosure alone survives, ````In Middlesex, under glass: ````Only the ribbon that left his `````breast ````On the day he turned and ran `````with the rest, ````And lied with a lip of brass! |BUT the letters they wrote `````about the boy, ````From the Brigadier to the `````men! ````They would never forget dear ````Mr. Joy, ````Not look on his like again. ````Ermyntrude read them with dry, `````proud eye. ````There was only one letter that `````made her cry. ````It was from Sergeant Wren: |THERE never was such a fear- `````less man, ````Or one so beloved as he. ````He was always up to some daring `````plan, ````Or some treat for his men and `````me. ````There wasn't his match when he `````went away; ````But since he got back, there has `````not been a day ````But what he has earned a ````V. C |A CYNICAL story? That's `````not my view. ````The years since he fell are `````twain. ````What were his chances of coming `````through? ````Which of his friends remain? ````But Ermyntrude's training a `````splendid boy ````Twenty years younger than En- `````sign Joy. ````On balance, a British gain! |AND Ermyntrude, did she `````lose her all ````Or find it, two years ago? ````O young girl-wives of the boys `````who fall, ````With your youth and your `````babes to show! ````No heart but bleeds for your `````widowhood. ````Yet Life is with you, and Life is `````good. ````No bone of _your_ bone lies low! |YOUR blessedness came--as `````it went--in a day. ````Deep dread but heightened `````your mirth. ````Your idols' feet never turned to `````clay-- ````Never lit upon common earth. ````Love is the Game but is _not_ the ````Goal: ````You played it together, body and `````soul, ````And you had your Candle's `````worth. |YES! though the Candle light `````a Shrine, ````And heart cannot count the `````cost, ````You are Winners yet in its tender `````shine! ````Would _they_ choose to have `````lived and lost? ````There are chills, you see, for the `````finest hearts; ````But, once it is only old Death `````that parts, ````There can never come twinge `````of frost. |AND this be our comfort for ````Every Boy ````Cut down in his high heyday, ````Or ever the Sweets of the Morn- `````ing cloy, ````Or the Green Leaf wither `````away; ````So a sunlit billow curls to a crest, ````And shouts as it breaks at its `````loveliest, ````In a glory of rainbow spray! |BE it also the making of ````Ermyntrude, ````And many a hundred more-- ````Compact of foibles and forti- `````tude-- ````Woo'd, won, and widow'd, in ````War. ````God, keep us gallant and unde- `````filed, ````Worthy of Husband, Lover, or