War and Love/Epilogue
For works with similar titles, see Epilogue.
EPILOGUE
Back we go to the shell-tossed land,To the whine of the shells that tears one's nerves And the crash that's only not near enough;Back we go to struggle with mud,To stumble and slip on the greasy boards,Back we go to the stink of the dead,Back we go to the sleepless daysAnd the unwashed weeks and the mouldy months,Back we go to the thirst and the dust,Back we go to the grim despairThat holds a man by the heart in France.
We'll go through it all, the fear and pain,The breaking up of body and soul,Take our chance of death after all,Of face or limb or shoulder smashed,Go through hell again, face it out,For her, for her love, for her kiss again.
Sneer or snarl, drivel or boast—What does it matter to us who goWhere they who send us dare not go?All one to us are the rights and wrongs,The nations' squabbles, the nations' lies;Not one land more than another landDo we love, lovers of love not land—So it's up the line and hell and painFor her, for her love, for her kiss again.