I thought that silence would be best,
But I a call have heard,
And, Victor, after all the rest,
I well might say a word:
The day and work is nearly done,
And ours the victory,
And we are resting, one by one,
In graveyards by the sea.
But then you talked of other nights,
When, gay from dusk to dawn,
You wasted hours with other lights
That went where you have gone.
You spoke not of the fair and fast,
But of the pure and true,
Sweet ugly women of the past
Who stood so well by you.
You made a jest on that last night,
I met it with a laugh:
You wondered which of us should write
The others epitaph.
We filled the glasses to the brim,
The lands own wine you know,
And solemnly we drank to him
Who should be first to...