Memoriam

There are some wounds that are recalled with joy;
There are some losses that return with gain;
There are some hurts, whose purpose can alloy
The price, and leave a surplus to remain.
Yet all these are but physic to mask pain;
The loss is felt no matter what its good.
The back that breaks is not helped by the strain
Nor by pretending that it ever could.
Yet this itself is false, and falser too;
The soldier is not merely flesh and bone,
But knows himself, and knows what he must do:
The sacrifice he makes is of his own.
Therefore the loss, though terrible and steep
Must make us happy too - although we weep.