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Poem by Robert William Service
My boy's come back; he's here at last; He came home on a special train. My longing and my ache are past, My only son is back again. He's home with music, flags and flowers; With peace and joy my heart's abrim; He got here in the morning hours With half the town to welcome him. To hush my grief, night after night, How I have digged my pillow deep, And it would be the morning light Before I sobbed myself to sleep. And how I used to stare and stare Across the harbour's yeasty foam, Thinking he's fighting far out there... But now with bells my boy's come home. There's Mrs. Burke, she has her Ted, But less the sight of his two eyes; And Mrs. Smith; you know her Fred - They took his legs off at the thighs. How can these women happy be, For all their bravery of talk, One with a son who cannot see, One with a boy who'll never walk. I should be happier than they; My lad came back without a scar, And all the folks are proud they say, To greet their hero of the war. So in the gentle eventide I'll give God thanks my Bert's come home... As peacefully I sit beside His tiny mound of new-turned loam.
Robert William Service
Robert William Service's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org