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TO SYLVIA
Two months ago the skies were blue,
The fields were fresh and green,
And green the willow tree stood up,
With the lazy stream between.
The fields were fresh and green,
And green the willow tree stood up,
With the lazy stream between.
Two months ago we sat and watched
The river drifting by—
And now—you’re back at your work again
And here in a ditch I lie.
The river drifting by—
And now—you’re back at your work again
And here in a ditch I lie.
God knows—my dear—I did not want
To rise and leave you so,
But the dead men’s hands were beckoning
And I knew that I must go.
To rise and leave you so,
But the dead men’s hands were beckoning
And I knew that I must go.
The dead men’s eyes were watching, lass,
Their lips were asking too,
We faced it out and payed the price—
Are we betrayed by you?
Their lips were asking too,
We faced it out and payed the price—
Are we betrayed by you?
The days are long between, dear lass,
Before we meet again,
Long days of mud and work for me,
For you long care and pain.
Before we meet again,
Long days of mud and work for me,
For you long care and pain.
But you’ll forgive me yet, my dear,
Because of what you know,
I can look my dead friends in the face
As I couldn’t two months ago.
Because of what you know,
I can look my dead friends in the face
As I couldn’t two months ago.
October 20th, 1917
