Harry Wilmans! You who fell in a swamp <br />Near Manila, following the flag, <br />You were not wounded by the greatness of a dream, <br />Or destroyed by ineffectual work, <br />Or driven to madness by Satanic snags; <br />You were not torn by aching nerves, <br />Nor did you carry great wounds to your old age. <br />You did not starve, for the government fed you. <br />You did not suffer yet cry "forward" <br />To an army which you led <br />Against a foe with mocking smiles, <br />Sharper than bayonets. You were not smitten down <br />By invisible bombs. You were not rejected <br />By those for whom you were defeated. <br />You did not eat the savorless bread <br />Which a poor alchemy had made from ideals. <br />You went to Manila, Harry Wilmans, <br />While I enlisted in the bedraggled army <br />Of bright-eyed, divine youths, <br />Who surged forward, who were driven back and fell, <br />Sick, broken, crying, shorn of faith, <br />Following the flag of the Kingdom of Heaven. <br />You and I, Harry Wilmans, have fallen <br />In our several ways, not knowing <br />Good from bad, defeat from victory, <br />Nor what face it is that smiles <br />Behind the demoniac mask.<br /><br />Edgar Lee Masters<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/godwin-james/
