II. I WONDER

I wonder if you dream, across the night,

When watchfires cut the vivid dark in twain,

Of long dim rooms, and yellow candlelight,

And gardens drenched in vaguely perfumed rain?

I wonder if you think, when shot and shell

And molten fire are singing songs of hate,

Of that last throbbing moment of farewell

When, in your arms, I promised you to wait!

I wonder, should grim death reach out his hand,

And speak, above the strife, of peace and rest;

If you, alone in that dark stranger land,

Would feel again my head upon your breast?

And if, as light and love and living slips,

Your prayer would be my kiss upon your lips....