  (R.A.L., Lieutenant, Worcesters) None shall dispute Your kingship, nor declare Another could have held the place You hold, For though he brought me finer gifts than gold, And laid before my feet his heart made bare Of all but love for me, and sighed despair If I but feigned my favours to withhold, And would repudiate as sadly cold The proud and lofty manner that You wear, He would not be my pure and stainless knight Of heart without reproach or hint of fear, Who walks unscathed amid War’s sordid ways By base desire or bloodshed’s grim delight, But ever holds his hero’s honour dear— Roland of Roncesvalles in modern days. 1st London General Hospital, November 1915. |
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