TOGETHER
They did n't speak, these three,
They did n't know each other's tongue;
And, then,
When men
Whose songs are nearly sung
Are lying side by side,
Their breathing not so... free,
The gulf is rather wide.
In the sun they lay there;
And Fritz's hair
Was very bright.
He was a foe
To kill on sight —
And yet the light
Upon his hair was so,
So very fair....
Jean found himself remembering HER hair;
Of palest gold it was, a magic snare
To net men's soul in! She had bade him go,
Sobbing, “Je t'aime” — which means, “I love you so!”
Her hair — her hands — her lips,
Red as a sunset cloud when daytime slips
Into the night. No, redder!
Like a flower
That blooms upon the earth for just an hour;
A poppy flower, fragile, soft.... HER LIPS
Red as the heart-blood of a man, that drips
Into eternity....
Jean sighed,
And died.
Fritz lay still.
He felt the strength, the faith, the stubborn will,
Drop from him like worn garments, till he lay
Half-frightened in the burning light of day.
He had killed many, yes....
From under
His tunic, gropingly, he drew a cross;
He wondered would it make, for her, the loss
A little less?
Ah, to press
His bearded lips once more upon her cheek,
To hear her speak....
Peter from Delancey Street, laughed with white- lipped pluck.
“Dyin’ side o’ HIM!” he coughed. “Ai n't it rotten luck!
“Poor guy, they got him, though — got him same as me....”
Peter, from Delancey Street, stopped talking suddenly.
He saw —
A candy store,
On the busy, smelly corner of a crowded city slum;
He heard the hum
Of traffic in the street,
The sound of feet
Upon the pavement; and he saw,
Behind the counter there,
THE GIRL. She wore
Her hair
Plastered tight to her little shell-like ears.
He felt her tears
Upon his face
The night he told her that he'd left his place,
His steady paying job, to go and fight.
“Good night!”
He'd said to her.
“Somebody's gotta go!
Yerself, you know,
We gotta STIR
T'lick them fellers Over There!”
Her slicked-back hair
Had roughened up against his khaki sleeve,
And she had cried:
“Dear, MUST you leave?”
And he had dried
Her eyes, and smudged the powder on her nose....
“Here goes!”
Said Peter of Delancey Street.
He saw
A candy store —
A city slum, a girl with plastered hair,
Who waited there....