They are soldiers, not with guns and ammo,
But only masks, gloves and gears as they go,
Armed with drugs, hope, and most of all courage
Against the viral enemy’s black rage. ...
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!