Killed in Action

MY father lived his three-score years; my son lived twenty-two;

One looked long back on work well done, and one had all to do —

Yet which the better served his world, I know not, nor do you!

Life taught my father all her lore till he grew wise and gray,

She did but whisper to my son before she turned away —

Yet which her deepest secret held only they two might say.

Peace brought my father restful days, with love and fame for wage;

War gave my son an unmarked grave and an unwritten page —

Who shall declare which gift conveyed the greater heritage?