THE ONE AT HOME.

DON told me that he loved me dear

Where down the range Whioola pours;

And when I laughed and would not hear

He flung away to fight the wars.

He flung away — how should he know

My foolish heart was dancin’ so?

How should he know that at his word

My soul was trillin’ like a bird?

He went out in the cannon smoke.

He did not seek to ask me why.

Again each day my poor heart broke

To see the careless post go by.

I cared not for their Emperors —

For me there was this in the wars;

My brown boy in the shell-clouds dim,

And savage devils killin’ him!

They told me on the field he fell,

And far they bore him from the fight,

But he is whole — he will be well

Now in a ward by day and night

A fair, tall nurse with slim, neat hands

By his white bedside smilin’ stands;

His brow with trailin fingertips

She soothes, and damps his fevered lips!

I know her not, but I can see

How blue her great eyes are, and hear

The cooin’ of her voice as she

Speaks gentle comfort to my dear;

With love as sweet as mother's care

She heals his wounds, she strokes his hair...

O God, could I but let him see

The hate of her consumin’ me!