She was a blossoming slip of English May, All white and rosy, when he went away, Her soldier who is coming back today -- The girl whose beauty in that hell afar Lighted his homesick dreamings like a star. The front is not where all the battles are. In the munition works, it came her turn To take a place among the fumes that burn Roses and white alike to yellow clay. She went without complaint -- only the tears Fell softly for the long unlovely years Over the flush he would not see again. And now she waits in anguish for the train, For though his love upon a rock be set She knows that she will see -- and not forget -- The pitiful horror of his first surprise. He, wounded, weary, seeking healing joy And finding ... this. And now she sees her boy Far down the platform -- coming -- but how slowly -- And now her fears, herself, forgotten wholly She runs, she clings to him. Those darkened eyes See nothing but the pictures memory shows. He holds her fast -- "My rose! my little rose...." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF A PHOTOGRAPHER by KAREN SWENSON THE CREATION by CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER A STRIP OF BLUE by LUCY LARCOM SHE CAME AND WENT by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE PITY OF THE LEAVES by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE KING'S DAUGHTER by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |