Their Frailty

Siegfried Sassoon

He’s got a Blighty wound. He’s safe; and then
  War’s fine and bold and bright.
She can forget the doomed and prisoned men
  Who agonize and fight.

He’s back in France. She loathes the listless strain
  And peril of his plight.
Beseeching Heaven to send him home again,
  She prays for peace each night.

Husbands and sons and lovers; everywhere
  They die; War bleeds us white.
Mothers and wives and sweethearts,—they don’t care
  So long as He’s all right.

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