It won't be easy
not to get the "wind up." It'll be difficult to maintain normal
cheerfulness. But they're not the men they were before they went to
war--out there they've learnt something. They're game. They'll remain
soldiers, whatever happens.
THE LADS AWAY
All the lads have gone out to play
At being soldiers, far away;
They won't be back for many a day,
And some won't be back any morning.
All the lassies who laughing were
When hearts were light and lads were here,
Go sad-eyed, wandering hither and there--
They pray and they watch for the morning.
Every house has its vacant bed
And every night, when sounds are dead,
Some woman yearns for the pillowed head
Of him who marched out in the morning.
Of all the lads who've gone out to play
There's some'll return and some who'll stay;
There's some will be back 'most any day--
But some won't wake up in the morning.
II
THE GROWING OF THE VISION
I'm continuing in America the book which I thought out during the
golden July and August days when I lay in the hospital in London. I've
been here a fortnight; everything that's happened seems unbelievably
wonderful, as though it had happened to some one other than
myself. It'll seem still more wonderful in a few weeks' time when I'm
where I hope I shall be--back in the mud at the Front.
Here's how this miraculous turn of events occurred. When I went
before my medical board I was declared unfit for active service for at
least two months.
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