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Patriotic pieces from the Great War. Edna D. Jones
Читать онлайн.Название Patriotic pieces from the Great War
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066441913
Автор произведения Edna D. Jones
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
Hail Columbia's sons are marching! Rich and poor alike are chums!
They've been welded fast together by the magic of the drums!
By the drums!
By the rat-tat-tat
Of drums!
By the fiat flat
Of drums!
By the glory that's surrounding
Every deed of dogged pounding!
Of the roll of honor sounding!
Of the drums!
—Grif Alexander
FOR FRANCE
FOR FRANCE
Permission of the author
She had been stricken, sorely, ere this came;
And now they wrote that he, her boy, was dead—
Her only one! Through blinding tears she read,
Trying to see what followed his dear name.
He had died "gloriously," the letter said,
"Guarding the Tricolor from touch of shame
Where raged the battle furious and wild."
Catching her breath, she stayed despair's advance.
She was a mother; but, besides—a child
Of France!
And after, though remembrance of past years
Dulled not to her fond vision nor grew dim;
Though every slightest incident of him
Was treasured in her breast, she shed no tears.
Her cup was full now, even to the brim,
And for herself she knew nor hopes nor fears.
So, toiling patiently, with noble pride
And lifted head she met each pitying glance,
She was the mother of a son who died—
For France!
—Florence Earle Coates
NEXT YEAR
NEXT YEAR
Permission of Everybody's Magazine, New York
Up and down the street I know,
Now that there is Grief and War
All day long the people go
As they went before;
But when now the lads go by—
Careless look and careless glance—
My heart wonders—"Which shall be
Still next year in France?"
When the girls go fluttering—
Flushing cheek and tossing head—
My heart says "Next year shall bring
Which a lover dead?"
Lord, let Peace be kind and fleet—
Put an end to Grief and War;
Let them walk the little street
Careless as before!
—Margaret Widdemer
THEN GIVE US WINGS
THEN GIVE US WINGS
If wings will help our men to see
Some Boche's belching battery,
Unloosing from a screen of trees
Its screeching death upon the breeze—
Or help our giant guns to search
With truer aim each hidden perch
Of Teuton guns, and make them meek,
Ere they again may chance to speak—
If wings, O God, will do these things,
Then give us wings.
If great, destroying wings might stay
Munitions in their hurried way,
Or hold a reënforcement back
By dropping ruin on its track,
Or yet set free the pent-up hell
Of depots filled with shot and shell,
Or swiftly give eternal sleep
To ships that prowl the nether deep—
If wings, O God, will do these things,
Then give us wings and still more wings.
If fast, avenging wings might cast
On German cities such a blast
Of desolating death and pain
As fell again and still again
On England's homes—and thus awake
The heart of pity—and so make
An end to killing mothers, wives,
And maiming helpless infant lives—
If wings, O God, will do these things,
Then give us wings, and wings and wings
And still more wings.
If dauntless, daring wings that dash
O'er No-Man's Land, with shot and crash,
Might beat back wings that would assail
Advancing armies with their hail—
If dauntless wings like these that ride
O'er No-Man's Land, might turn the tide
Of great offensive—bring about
Allied success and Teuton rout—
If wings, O God, will do these things,
Then give us wings and wings and wings
Devouring wings that cleave and soar,
And yet more wings and more and more!
If multitudes of wings might rise
To blind aggression's lustful eyes,
And render powerless every stroke
That seeks to force the tyrant's yoke—
If multitudes of wings might give
Democracy a chance to live,
And make this bloody carnage cease,
And bring to earth a lasting peace—
If wings, O God, will do these things,
Then give us wings, and wings and wings,
And still more wings arrayed to smite
Till Vict'ry come—the hosts of light
Beneath the sun, whose