GETTING INTO KHAKI.

Otago Witness, Issue 3277, 3 January 1917, Page 48

GETTING INTO KHAKI.

I think while I sew: I watch tho babe grow, And '.he thoughts with tnc stitches I weave ; I sew while- I think; 1 watch tho days link, And thus, sowing and thinking, I gnevo. Little chubby baby mine. Stretching tiny feet To the glow of fircshinc. Didums love the heat? Sco the .pretty dimple, The .happy winsome smiles! 'Tis baby-lore so simple That mother's heart beguiles. Has ho cut a toothy white? Mother sees it there! Flushed his little check so bright; Pain is cruel to bear! Sleep, then—hush, my baby! Hush, my wee one—sleep! See not tilings thai may be, Baby must not weep! I think while I sew: I watch the boy grow, And the thoughts with the stitches i weave; I sew while I think, I watch the months link, And thus, sewing and thinking, I grieve. Big boy, now in breeches, Pocket, too, like dad; Counting coins as riches — Bonny little ladl Prattling of his ABC, Tracing mystic letters; Puzzling over 1,2, 3, Copying his " betters." Cuddling tight his first school prize— Tho suit he wears is heather; Joy-light beaming from his eyes, Homo wo walk together. Gladsome days by sea-shore, Digging out the sand; Waiting upon fisher-lore, Following the band. I think while I eew; I watch the Youth grow, And the thoughts with tho stitches 1 weave. I sew while I think, I watch the years link, And thus, sewing and thinking, I grieve. Schooldays left behind him, Clad as " city man/' — Will the big worhl grind him Or find him in the van? All! that first month's earnings— Proud he brings them me; Ambitious all his yearnings For the days to be. " Mother, lot me do my share, Help to smooth the way; Time has come to save you care — My red-letter day." Merry whistle, firmer tread, Heartier laugh he knows; Winning now his daily bread With his night's repose. I think while I sew; I watch and I know, And the watching and knowing I weave. I sew while I think, 1 watch the years link, And thus, sewing and thinking, I grieve. I see again his dress-suit, Tho first he's ever worn; And since that bonny dress-suit All look, to me, forlorn. It is a function sprightly; His chief has asked him to it; He wears his honours lightly, He's sense and tact to do it. Finer yet his rowing tire, Club colours, and his pride; To sportsman's honours he'll aspire His boat to victory ride.

'Tis done! The Henley badge and coat Are his, and his the joy Of rowing in that Henley boat— My sporting, manly boy. I think while I sew; I watch the oars row, And the thoughts with the stitches I weave. I sew while I think, I watch the years link, And thus, sewing and thinking, I grieve. His love, he brought her home to me, So full of manly pride; How wistfully ho watched to see His mother with his bride! He heard my tones, he read rny face; His heart and mine beat true. "I'm awfully bucked you like my Grace, Mother; she likes yen, too!" He smoothed my hand, he kissed my brow: '"l've thought of this so long— You have both son and daughter now, So love is doubly strong!" T think while I sow, I watch his joy grow, And the thoughts with the stitches I weave. I sew while I think, I watch the months link. And thus, thinking and sewing, I grieve. Ho sleeps within a crowded tent— He's heard the bugler, Duty, And leapt to fight, e'er lie was sent, For England, home, and beauty! 'Tis wife and child that fill his dreams, Their faces clear before him; Their smiles he sees, by light that gleams, On all from which Fate tore him. The moment comes of "final leave"— How may such leave be spoken? Brit-imnia. weeps with pons that grieve; With theirs, her heart is broken. I think while I sew; I hear the guns go, And the sound with the stitches I weave. I sew while I think-. I watch the flames link, And thus, thinking and sewing, I grieve! 'Tis night, and some the hours have slept, To wake and read the story Of those who stood, and crawled and crept Through seven hells "to glory"— Of trenches pounded into dust By high explosives hurled; Of streamlets flowing, crimson-flushed, Before a stasrgercd world.

Of stifling gas] of liquid flame, Of blazing furnace fight; Of anguished cries on Hoi; ■2\';ime Tlirougli liours of tortured Night. ] think while I fear; And his sufferings I hour, And ihc hearing and fearing I weave. I hear while I think, And the fears they all link, And thus, fearing and hearing, I grieve. —]■:. M. Story.