Sonnets of the Great Peace: V.

What shame were this to those who lie asleep
Under the scarlet poppies, having bought
A clean new world with blood! Shall we not keep
Faith with our dead, and give them what they sought?
Is not a world the measure of our debt
To those whose young lives sadly we inherit,
Living them out, making them fruitful yet?
What lesser meed fits their transcendent merit?
The future was their sacrificial gift,
And joy unborn, and beauty uncreate,
And little children that should racing lift
Their torch of life, laughing at death and fate:
Shall we not make, mindful of all they gave,
A star of this old earth which is their grave?