Escape, and: Take Me Away From My Wounded Men, and: There is a Monster in the Valley, and: Prefatory Note

Escape

Shall we be happy a little while in spite of the war? Say yes, Oh terrible man – Leave your soldiers in the trenches, Where’s the harm – They’ll stand strong. Steal an hour away from France and come with me, Who will know? I so long to see you smile – I so long to find again the man I knew,

Let us be glad a little while – the guns are still. The enemy is fast asleep, After all, there’s just a row of tired men on their side, The same as ours – It’s merely stupid if you think of it that way, Two rows of men in deep ditches full of mud, Where’s the glory? Where’s the sense? I know something far more true than the hate that keeps them there –

Haven’t you had enough of mud and rain and cold? Aren’t you weary of the wide unsheltered sky? Aren’t you tired of the dead that lie about? Doesn’t the fear of being afraid begin to pall? Don’t say No – Your face is old, your hair is grey – your eyes are hard – Your hands are shaking with fatigue – Come with me where you will rest – Where the four walls of a room will club us in, Safe – alone –

There I’ll take you in my arms, You will smile – And together we will go, down and down Into the wild sweet throbbing dream That we know – And you’ll forget – You will be the man I loved, young and strong – You’ll be safe and you will sleep – I shall hold you while you sleep for a little, like a child –

Let us be happy a little while – defy the war, Say yes, Oh weary man – Steal an hour away from France – Where’s the shame? God won’t care – Leave your men and let them die in the mud – Who will tell? I so long to have you mine – I would pay – I would drink with my own lips all the blood that would stain you if you came –

Take Me Away From My Wounded Men

Come to me quickly and take me away from my wounded men – I cannot bear their pain anymore – Come quickly and take me away out of this place Give me rest, give me strength, give me cleanness and joy for one hour – I am suffocating – I cannot get away – They cling to my skirt, my arms, my hands – They clutch at my strength They call my name – They keep calling me. They cry to me to undo their pain and let them free – I cannot set them free. They throw themselves unto my breast, to die – I cannot even let them die – Come to me for one hour, strong, clean – whole- Their wounds gape at me – Their stumps menace me – The bandaged faces grimace at me Their death rattle curses me – Give me rest – Make me clean

I am stained – I am soiled – I am streaked with their blood – I am soaked with the odor of the oozing of their wounds – I am saturated with the poison of their poor festering wounds – I am poisoned – I’m infected – I shall never wash it off – But you are clean – Your face is cold and fresh and wet by the rain – Let me drink the fresh moisture of your face with my lips – Your garments are electric with the wild blowing wind – Put your galant cloak about me – Let me breathe, Let me breathe –

Give me rest – Take me in your arms, your strong accustomed arms and swing me up and hold me close and quietly oh quietly set me afloat upon your tenderness That I may be light – light – For I am heavy with the weight of my helpless wounded men – I can bear no more the weight of their rolling heads, their broken limbs, their inert bodies. Give me strength – Stop the shaking of my hands – I am shaking – I cannot keep from shaking...