Harold John Jarvis
And gave them willingly
As Christ gave His, that day on Calvary.
A stricken Christ . . . a broken shrine . . . and men
In khaki marching by. . . . How little less
Divine these khaki-clads in their worn dress
Than He, the Christ of God? For in each man
The same soul burns.
And ere I leave the shrine,
I look upon the Christ—then at the line
Of men . . . back to His face and those closed eyes
So open when one lingeringly looks
As if into their depths. These men . . . those eyes . . .
Loving, pain-haunted eyes, hard gazing down
They seem,
On these these other Christs in thin disguise
Of khaki- brown.
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