1 wished you back at my breast When I saw t his war descend ; Now I’d scour the east aiul west For another son. to send ; Oh, that the parents, too, might go To lead the way, and slay the foe. 1 wished your toddling I ret Played round tho house again ; Now I want them strong and licet And suro in tho grand campaign. Our prayers will follow you, my son ; God take you, then—His will bo done. I wanted your baby tongue To prattle with laughter gay; Now give me an order flung Like a rifle-shot away'. Your parents’ hearts are on the field; Dio if you must, but do not yield. WAR. In the foreground streaming eyes, In tho distance battle cries; Down the skyline blue and dim Goes his ship. Christ shelter him 1 Just a soldier gone to war, But ho was the baba I bore; And I buckled on hia sword, Like x soldier’s mother. Lord. Other mothers need hi® care, Babes that other mothers bare. And I wero the, poorest thing Did I grudge him to his King. So with smiles I bade him go. Choked tho sob and anguish throe j But above tho martial hymn Wails my heart. Christ, shelter him! -Dorothy Frances il’Clrac. in ‘ %Jdior,
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SECOND THOUGHTS., Evening Star, Issue 15641, 4 November 1914
SECOND THOUGHTS. Evening Star, Issue 15641, 4 November 1914
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