Cross Roads

FROM THE DECK OF A TRANSPORT

     (A Returning Soldier Speaks)

     I am coming back with a singing soul through the
        surge of the splendid sea,
     Coming back to the land called home, and the love
        that used to be—
     I am coming back through a flash of spray, through
        a conquered tempest's hum,
     I am coming back, I am coming back....  But,
        God, do I want to come?

     I have heard the shriek of the great shells speak to
        the dawn of a flaming day;
     And a growling gun when the fight was won, and the
        twilight flickered gray,
     I have seen men die with their chins raised high, and
        a curse that was half a prayer—
     I have fought alone when a comrade's groan was
        tense on the blinding air.

     I have tramped a road when a burning load was
        strapped to my aching back,
     Through miles of mud that was streaked with blood,
        when my closing eyes turned back—
     I have cried aloud to a heedless crowd of a God that
        they could not know,
     And have knelt at night when the way was bright
        with a rocket's sullen glow.

     I am going home through the whirling foam—home
        to her arms stretched wide—
     I am going back to the beaten track and the sheltered
        fireside,
     With gasping breath I have sneered at death, and
        have mocked at a shell's swift shirr,
     And safe again, through the years of pain, I am
        going back—to HER!

I am coming back with a singing soul through the
        surge of the splendid sea,
     Coming back—BUT MY SINGING SOUL WILL NEVER BE
        QUITE FREE—
     For I have killed, and my heart has thrilled to the
        call of the battle hum....
     I am coming back to the used-to-be—But, God, do I
        want to come?