Fulfilment.

Was there love once? I have forgotten her.     Was there grief once? grief yet is mine.     Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir     More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine.     Faces cheerful, full of whimsical mirth,     Lined by the wind, burned by the sun;     Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth,     As whose children we are brethren: one.     And any moment may descend hot death     To shatter limbs! pulp, tear, blast     Beloved soldiers who love rough life and breath     Not less for dying faithful to the last.     O the fading eyes, the grimed face turned bony,     Oped mouth gushing, fallen head,     Lessening pressure of a hand shrunk, clammed, and stony!     O sudden spasm, release of the dead!     Was there love once? I have forgotten her.     Was there grief once? grief yet is mine.     O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier,     All, all, my joy, my grief, my love, are thine!