58285: Smile, Smile, Smile

<p dir="ltr"> Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned<br> Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)<br> And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.<br> Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned,<br> 'For', said the paper, 'when this war is done<br> The men's first instincts will be making homes.<br> Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes,<br> It being certain war has but begun.<br> Peace would do wrong to our undying dead, ---<br> The sons we offered might regret they died<br> If we got nothing lasting in their stead.<br> We must be solidly indemnified.<br> Though all be worthy Victory which all bought,<br> We rulers sitting in this ancient spot<br> Would wrong our very selves if we forgot<br> The greatest glory will be theirs who fought,<br> Who kept this nation in integrity.'<br> Nation?---The half-limbed readers did not chafe<br> But smiled at one another curiously<br> Like secret men who know their secret safe.<br> (This is the thing they know and never speak,<br> That England one by one had fled to France,<br> Not many elsewhere now, save under France.)<br> Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week,<br> And people in whose voice real feeling rings<br> Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things.</p>