Epitaph on a Very Young Airman
The Poets & The War XLVI
Think not of valour – the pain
That never deflected my course:
Limbs would have mended again;
Wavering brings but remorse.
But think of the heart that lies cold –
The singer, whose songs are unsung:
For I, who shall never be old,
Hardly knew what it was to be young.
Published in U.S.A. by the Refugees of England, Incorporated.