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Patriotic pieces from the Great War. Edna D. Jones
Читать онлайн.Название Patriotic pieces from the Great War
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isbn 4064066441913
Автор произведения Edna D. Jones
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
—Anthony Euwer
IN FLANDERS FIELDS
For other versions of this work, see In Flanders Fields.
IN FLANDERS FIELDS
Permission of the New York Times
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly,
Scarce heard amidst the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe,
To you from failing hands we throw
The Torch—be yours to hold it high;
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
—Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae
THE SERVICE FLAG
THE SERVICE FLAG
Permission of the author
Dear little flag in the window there,
Hung with a tear and a woman's prayer;
Child of Old Glory, born with a star—
Oh, what a wonderful flag you are!
Blue Is your star in its field of white,
Dipped in the red that was born of fight;
Born of the blood that our forebears shed
To raise your mother, The Flag, o'erhead.
And now you've come, in this frenzied day,
To speak from a window—to speak and say:
"I am the voice of a soldier-son
Gone to be gone till the victory's won.
"I am the flag of The Service, sir;
The flag of his mother—I speak for her
Who stands by my window and waits and fears,
But hides from the others her unwept tears.
"I am the flag of the wives who wait
For the safe return of a martial mate,
A mate gone forth where the war god thrives
To save from sacrifice other men's wives.
"I am the flag of the sweethearts true;
The often unthought of—the sisters, too.
I am the flag of a mother's son
And won't come down till the victory's won!"
Dear little flag in the window there,
Hung with a tear and a woman's prayer;
Child of Old Glory, born with a star—
Oh, what a wonderful flag you are!
—William Herschell
PEACE WITH A SWORD
PEACE WITH A SWORD
By permission of the author
Peace! How we love her and the good she brings
On broad, benignant wings!
And we have clung to her, how close and long,
While she has made us strong!
Now we must guard her lest her power cease,
And in the harried world be no more peace.
Even with a sword,
Help us, O Lord!
For us no patient peace, the weary goal
Of a war-sickened soul;
No peace that battens on misfortune's pain,
Swollen with selfish gain,
Bending slack knees before a calf of gold,
With nerveless fingers impotent to hold
The freeman's sword.
Not this, O Lord!
No peace bought for us by the martyr dead
Of countries reeking red;
No peace flung to us from a tyrant's hand,
Sop to a servile land.
Our Peace the State's strong arm holds high and free,
"The placid peace she seeks in liberty,"
Yea, "with a sword."
Help us, O Lord!
O Massachusetts! In your golden prime,
Not with the bribe of time
You won her; subtle words and careful ways
In perilous days.
No! By your valor, by the patriot blood
Of your brave sons poured in a generous flood;
Peace, with a sword!
Help us, O Lord!
Bring out the banners that defied a king!
The tattered colors bring
That made a nation one from sea to sea
In godly liberty.
Unsheathe the patriot sword in time of need,
O Massachusetts, shouting in the lead,—
"Peace with a sword!
Help us, O Lord!"
—Abbie Farwell Brown
SQUARING OURSELVES
SQUARING OURSELVES
How many howled about Josephus every time a sailor man
Found an unresponsive barkeep when he went to rush the can!
How they growled about Josephus when commanders got the news
That the Admiral had orders for a dry and boozeless cruise!
Even such a wild teetotaller as the temperate T. R.
Shouted from a thousand housetops that Josephus went too far.
From all quarters of the Nation excellent, well-meaning folk,
Said in letters to the papers that Josephus was a joke.