Ladies of Charity

With quiet tread, with softly smiling faces
The nurses move like music through the room;
While broken men (known, technically, as “cases”)
Watch them with eyes late deep in bitter gloom,
As though the Spring were come with all the Graces,
Or maiden April walked the ward in bloom.

Men that have grown forgetful of Joy’s power,
And old before their time, take courtesy
So sweet of girl or woman, as if some flower
Most strangely fair of Spring were suddenly
Thick in the woods at Winter’s blackest hour--
The gift unlocked for--lovely Charity.

Their anguish they forget, and, worse, the slow
Corruption of Joy’s springs; now breathe again
The free breath was theirs so long ago.
Courage renewed makes mock at the old pain.
Life’s loveliness brings tears, and a new glow.
Somehow their sacrifice seems not in vain.