Just for a dog, our hearts are bled;
Those glistening eyes, that noble head,
That coat of rich and golden red
No more are seen, for Don is dead.
...
To Our Sweethearts, From Burma, 1945
Beside the lonely Irrawaddy,
Beyond the banks of Pakokku,
We're longing for you, soul and body,
And wond'ring, are you longing too?