Edith Nesbit

To Her: in Time of War

   ONCE I made for you songs,
   Rondels, triolets, sonnets;
   Verse that my love deemed due,
   Verse that your love found fair.
   Now the wide wings of war
   Hang, like a hawk’s, over England,
   Shadowing meadows and groves;
   And the birds and the lovers are mute.

   Yet there’s a thing to say
   Before I go into battle,
   Not now a poet’s word
   But a man’s word to his mate:
   Dear, if I come back never,
   Be it your pride that we gave
   The hope of our hearts, each other,
   For the sake of the Hope of the World.