Does it matter?--losing your sight?... There's such splendid work for the blind; And people will always be kind, As you sit on the terrace remembering And turning your face to the light. Do they matter?--those dreams from the pit?... You can drink and forget and be glad, And people won't say that you're mad; For they'll know that you've fought for your country, And no one will worry a bit. SURVIVORS No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk. Of course they're "longing to go out again,"-- These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk, They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,-- Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride ... Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad. CRAIGLOCKHART, Oct. 1917. JOY-BELLS Ring your sweet bells; but let them be farewells To the green-vista'd gladness of the past That changed us into soldiers; swing your bells To a joyful chime; but let it be the last. What means this metal in windy belfries hung When guns are all our need? Dissolve these bells Whose tones are tuned for peace: with martial tongue Let them cry doom and storm the sun with shells. Bells are like fierce-browed prelates who proclaim That "if our Lord returned He'd fight for us." So let our bells and bishops do the same, Shoulder to shoulder with the motor-bus. ARMS AND THE MAN Young Croesus went to pay his call On Colonel Sawbones, Caxton Hall: And, though his wound was healed and mended, He hoped he'd get his leave extended. The waiting-room was dark and bare. He eyed a neat-framed notice there Above the fireplace hung to show Disabled heroes where to go For arms and legs; with scale of price, And words of dignified advice How officers could get them free. Elbow or shoulder, hip or knee,-- Two arms, two legs, though all were lost, They'd be restored him free of cost. Then a Girl-Guide looked in to say, "Will Captain Croesus come this way?" WHEN I'M AMONG A BLAZE OF LIGHTS ... When I'm among a blaze of lights, With tawdry music and cigars And women dawdling through delights, And officers at cocktail bars,-- Sometimes I think of garden nights And elm trees nodding at the stars. I dream of a small firelit room With yellow candles burning straight, And glowing pictures in the gloom, And kindly books that hold me late. Of things like these I love to think When I can never be alone: Then some one says, "Another drink?"-- And turns my living heart to stone. THE KISS