Words That Burn

The Homecoming, by Anna Wickham (1884-1947)

I waited ten years in the husk

That once had been our home,

Watching from dawn to dusk

To see if he would come.

 

And there he was beside me

Always at board and bed;

I looked — and woe betide me

He I had loved was dead.

 

He fell at night on the hillside,

They brought him home to his place,

I had not the solace of sorrow

Till I had looked at his face.

 

Then I clasped the broken body

To see if it breathed or moved,

For there, in the smile of his dying,

Was the gallant man I had loved.

 

O wives come lend me your weeping,

I have not enough of tears,

For he is dead who was sleping

These ten accursed years.