More songs by the fighting men. Soldiers poets: second series/Armel O'Connor

ARMEL O'CONNOR

Private, East Anglian Field Ambulance

 

Violet

I WOULD throw to magnificent doom
White roses at her feet.
Should she tread out the life of each bloom,
What fate could be more sweet?
I would rifle imperial graves
For rings of ancient skill;
I would bring her an army of slaves
Dependent on her will.

I would build her a wonderful home,
The place a Queen to please,
Cedar walls with an ivory dome,
Where she might dwell at ease.
Should she covet the stars or the moon,
Or, yes, the seraphim,
I am sure I should count it a boon
To satisfy her whim.

······

But I think of her beautiful face,
Her kind, kind English heart
With its personal treasures of grace
That have no counterpart.
And I know that she sets not the tasks
Inferior Queens decree.
That I love her, is all that she asks
Of heaven and of me.

Palestine, Aug. 12, 1917