[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
From Flanders, August 1915

I do not ask you, Dear, to give me love
Or even friendship in the coming years,
Only if loneliness should come to you,
Or you should meet with pain or any tears,
Remember one man lived for love of you
And dreamed for the grave kindness of your eyes,
And, since you smiled on him, became a god,
And made himself on earth a paradise.

by May Wedderburn Cannan
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com
Ballad of June 1915

I made a garden for my love
With roses white and roses red,
And I must gather rosemary,
For my love lieth dead.

I planned to plunder all the stars
To make a chaplet for his head ;
The rain beats on the window bars,
And my love lieth dead.

I meant to make a dream of days
With life by love and laughter led ;
I stumble over stony ways,
And my love lieth dead.

I made a garden for my love
With roses white and roses red,
And I must gather rosemary,
For my love lieth dead.

by May Wedderburn Cannan
[identity profile] duathir.livejournal.com

Lamplight

We planned to shake the world together, you and I
Being young, and very wise;
Now in the light of the green shaded lamp
Almost I see your eyes
Light with the old gay laughter; you and I
Dreamed greatly of an Empire in those days,
Setting our feet upon laborious ways,
And all you asked of fame
Was crossed swords in the Army List,
My Dear, against your name.

We planned a great Empire together, you and I,
Bound only by the sea;
Now in the quiet of a chill Winter's night
Your voice comes hushed to me
Full of forgotten memories: you and I
Dreamed great dreams of our future in those days,
Setting our feet on undiscovered ways,
And all I asked of fame
A scarlet cross on my breast, my Dear,
For the swords by your name.

We shall never shake the world together, you and I,
For you gave your life away;
And I think my heart was broken by the war,
Since on a summer day
You took the road we never spoke of: you and I
Dreamed greatly of an Empire in those days;
You set your feet upon the Western ways
And have no need of fame-
There's a scarlet cross on my breast, my Dear,
And a torn cross with your name.

by May Wedderburn Cannan

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