(A Returning Soldier Speaks)

I am coming back with a singing soul through the
surge of the splendid sea,
Coming back to the land called home, and the love
that used to be—
I am coming back through a flash of spray, through
a conquered tempest's hum,
I am coming back, I am coming back.... But,
God, do I want to come?

I have heard the shriek of the great shells speak to
the dawn of a flaming day;
And a growling gun when the fight was won, and the
twilight flickered gray,
I have seen men die with their chins raised high, and
a curse that was half a prayer—
I have fought alone when a comrade's groan was
tense on the blinding air.

I have tramped a road when a burning load was
strapped to my aching back,
Through miles of mud that was streaked with blood,
when my closing eyes turned back—
I have cried aloud to a heedless crowd of a God that
they could not know,
And have knelt at night when the way was bright
with a rocket's sullen glow.

I am going home through the whirling foam—home
to her arms stretched wide—
I am going back to the beaten track and the sheltered
fireside,
With gasping breath I have sneered at death, and
have mocked at a shell's swift shirr,
And safe again, through the years of pain, I am
going back—to HER!

I am coming back with a singing soul through the
surge of the splendid sea,
Coming back—BUT MY SINGING SOUL WILL NEVER BE
QUITE FREE—
For I have killed, and my heart has thrilled to the
call of the battle hum....
I am coming back to the used-to-be—But, God, do I
want to come?