She was still the same as ever, Tiadatha’s green-eyed Phyllis, Still as sweet and slim and slender, Slim and slender as his sword was. And her eyes were still like April, Green and grey as days in April, And her mouth still curved like roses, And her smile was still like sunshine Playing on the Thames at Chelsea Early on a summer morning. Still the same yet somehow different, Somehow deeper, somehow truer, Tested by those years of waiting, By those two long years of waiting, Less of girl and more of woman, And her eyes were very tender As she kissed my Tiadatha. And that night they dined at Prince’s, Tiadatha very happy Sitting at his wonted table In black tie and dinner jacket, Gleaming shirt and glossy collar; Phyllis radiant, very lovely, In a frock of grey and silver, Soft and clinging as a shadow, Pearly as the mists of morning, Touched with violet like a sunrise (Who am I to tell you of it?) With some tiny silver tassels Hanging down like shafts of moonlight. And her eyes like stars were shining, Like stars on a frosty evening, As she talked to Tiadatha. And the glinting dinner table And the shaded lights and music, And the buzz of conversation Of the gay and laughing people Were like wine to Tiadatha. And he raised his glass of bubbly Looking towards his green-eyed Phyllis. “Here’s a toast,” quoth Tiadatha, “Here’s to the two things I love most— London Town in peace and war time, Coupled with the name of Phyllis. This is better than the Splendide, This is better than the French Club, Better than a farewell dinner In a dug-out in the trenches, London Town in peace and war time, Nothing in the world to touch you— Damn the air-raids, damn the coupons, Damn the lack of meat and sugar. Two long years I’ve waited for you, After two long years I’ve got you, London and my green-eyed Phyllis.”