We spoke of you today, James Stuart Dunne,
Surgeon of the trenches. The swallows rose
And dived across the skies in tumult fun
In practice for their pyramids. Their great-
Great Ancestors had known you round Clonkeen
Preparing for your Internship. Your dream,
Soon nightmare broken, in the savage scream
Of salvage amputation. You set sail
Today, in August, Nineteen and fourteen;
The swallows looked the same, but saw the change
Through smoke, and noise and turmoil, and despair
Where broken men bewildered, found your care.
By rampart breach a Surgeon’s skill was known,
Where brave men wept for home, and home disowned.