Godwin JamesHarry Wilmans! You who fell in a swampNear Manila, following the flagYou were not wounded by the greatness of a dream,Or destroyed by ineffectual work,Or driven to madness by Satanic snags;You were not torn by aching nerves,Nor did you carry great wounds to your old age.You did not starve, for the government fed you.You did not suffer yet cry “forward”To an army which you ledAgainst a foe with mocking smiles,Sharper than bayonets.You were not smitten downBy invisible bombs.You were not rejectedBy those for whom you were defeated.You did not eat the savorless breadWhich a poor alchemy had made from ideals.You went to Manila, Harry Wilmans,While I enlisted in the bedraggled armyOf bright-eyed, divine youths,Who surged forward, who were driven back and fellSick, broken, crying, shorn of faith,Following the flag of the Kingdom of Heaven.You and I, Harry Wilmans, have fallenIn our several ways, not knowingGood from bad, defeat from victory,Nor what face it is that smilesBehind the demoniac mask.
Harry Wilmans! You who fell in a swampNear Manila, following the flagYou were not wounded by the greatness of a dream,Or destroyed by ineffectual work,Or driven to madness by Satanic snags;You were not torn by aching nerves,Nor did you carry great wounds to your old age.You did not starve, for the government fed you.You did not suffer yet cry “forward”To an army which you ledAgainst a foe with mocking smiles,Sharper than bayonets.You were not smitten downBy invisible bombs.You were not rejectedBy those for whom you were defeated.You did not eat the savorless breadWhich a poor alchemy had made from ideals.You went to Manila, Harry Wilmans,While I enlisted in the bedraggled armyOf bright-eyed, divine youths,Who surged forward, who were driven back and fellSick, broken, crying, shorn of faith,Following the flag of the Kingdom of Heaven.You and I, Harry Wilmans, have fallenIn our several ways, not knowingGood from bad, defeat from victory,Nor what face it is that smilesBehind the demoniac mask.