| George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917. |
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| 90. Fulfilment |
| | | By Robert Nichols |
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| WAS there love once? I have forgotten her. | |
| Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine. | |
| Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir | |
| More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine. | |
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| Faces cheerful, full of whimsical mirth, | 5 |
| Lined by the wind, burned by the sun; | |
| Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth, | |
| As whose children we are brethren: one. | |
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| And any moment may descend hot death | |
| To shatter limbs! Pulp, tear, blast | 10 |
| Beloved soldiers who love rough, life and breath | |
| Not less for dying faithful to the last. | |
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| O the fading eyes, the grimed face turned bony, | |
| Oped mouth gushing, fallen head, | |
| Lessening pressure of a hand, shrunk, clammed and stony! | 15 |
| O sudden spasm, release of the dead! | |
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| Was there love once? I have forgotten her. | |
| Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine. | |
| O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier, | |
| All, all my joy, my grief, my love, are thine. | 20 |
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