Shrapnel Corner

Dare We Forget?

At a corner of a busy street,
one noonday I espied
(and longed with all my heart to greet)
two soldiers side by side.

Neither vainglorious nor proud,
with interested eye
they watched the busy, happy crowd
that, careless, passed them by


with scarce a hurried backward glance,
or more than passing thought,
and yet, there two "somewhere in France"
our battles fierce had fought.

The shell had done its deadly work;
each cruel traces bore
of "No Man's Land" where dangers lurk,
of conflict hard and sore.


Within a sling, a shattered arm
was eloquent of pain;
that I might be kept safe from harm
he braved that deadly rain.

His comrade, too, had faced the storm;
one limb was torn away.
His slight, emaciated form
had crutches for its stay.


With sympathy my heart o'erflowed
their sacrifice to see;
with fervent pride my spirit glowed—
they suffered this for me.

I longed to clasp those brave, strong hands,
my gratitude display,
but, bound by strong Convention's bands,
I silent, went my way.



(Letter submitted to the Toronto Star by "Jane,"
10 November 1916;

Shrapnel Corner was originally the southwest corner

of Yonge and College, facing College;

there were soon complaints about the returned men

who sat there on benches donated for the purpose:

pictured above are some of these men, on those benches.

Note the Black veteran; also the canes.)