  On Sussex hills to-day Women stand and hear The guns at work alway, Horribly, terribly clear. The doors shake, on the wall The kitchen vessels move, The brave heart not at all May soothe its tortured love, Nor hide from truth, nor find Comfort in lies. No prayer May calm. All’s naught. The mind Waits on the throbbing air. The frighted day grows dark. None dares to speak. The gloom Makes bright and brighter the spark Of fire in the still room. A crazy door shakes free.... “Dear God!” They stand, they stare ... A shape eyes cannot see Troubles blank darkness there. She knows, and must go pray Numb-hearted by the bed That was his own alway ... The throbbing hurts her head. |
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