Glory

At the crowded gangway they kissed good-bye.

He had half a mind to scold her.

An officer's mother and not keep dry

The epaulet on his shoulder.

He had forgotten mother and fame,

His mind in a blood-mist floated,

But when reeling back from carnage they came,

One told him: "You are promoted!"

His friend smiled up from the wet red sand,

The look was afar, eternal,

But he tried to salute with his shattered hand:

"Room now for another colonel!"

Again he raged in that lurid hell

Where the country he loved had thrown him.

"You are promoted!" shrieked a shell.

His mother would not have known him.