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Poem	Does it matter?-losing your legs? For people will always be kind, And you need not show that you mind When others come in after hunting To gobble their muffins and eggs. Does it matter?-losing you sight? There’s such splendid work for the blind; And people will always be kind, As you sit on the terrace remembering And turning your face to the light. Do they matter-those dreams in the pit? You can drink and forget and be gald, And people won't say that you’re mad; For they know that you've fought for your country, And no one will worry a bit.
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