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.