Come home, victorious wounded!

Come home, victorious wounded!—let the dead,
The out-of-it, the more victorious still,
Hold in the cold the hot-contested hill,
Hold by the sand the abandoned smooth beach-head;
Maimed men, whose scars must be exhibited
To all the world, though much against your will—
And men whose bodies bear no marks of ill,
Being twisted only in the guts and head:
Come home! come home!—not to the home you long
To find,—and which your valour had achieved
Had virtue been but right, and evil wrong!—
We have tried hard, and we have greatly grieved:
Come home and help us!—you are hurt but strong!
—And we—we are bewildered—and bereaved.