To Her: In Time Of War / Edith Nesbit

Once I made for you songs,

Rondels, triolets, sonnets;

Verse that my love deemed due,

Verse that your love found fair.

Now the wide wings of war

Hang, like a hawk's, over England,

Shadowing meadows and groves;

And the birds and the lovers are mute.

Yet there's a thing to say

Before I go into battle,

Not now a poet's word

But a man's word to his mate:

Dear, if I come back never,

Be it your pride that we gave

The hope of our hearts, each other,

For the sake of the Hope of the World.