THE DEVONSHIRE MOTHER.

Observer, Volume XXXV, Issue 50, 21 August 1915, Page 18

THE DEVONSHIRE MOTHER.

The King have called the Devon lads and' they be answering fine— But shadows seem to bide this;!way, for all the sun do shine-, For there's Squire's i-soii have gome for one, and ■ Parson's eon—and mine. I mind the day mine AVent from me— the skies Avas all aglow—>■ The cows deep in our little lane ivas comin' home so slow— "And don't cc nieA-er grieve yourself," ho said, "because I go."

His arms Aye re strong around me then. He turned and Avent away— I heard the little child'er dear a'singin' at their play, The meanln' of an aching heart is hid) from such as they.

And scarce a day goes by but iioav I set my door ajar, And Avatch the road that Jan Avent up the time he Avent. to Avar, That Avhen he'll come again to me I'll see him from afar.

Aiul in my chimney seat o' nights, Avhen quiet grows the farm, I pray the Lord he be not cold whiles i have fire to Avarm — And give the mothers humble hearts Avhose boys are kept from harm. And 1 then I take the Book and read before I seek my rest, Of lioav that other son Avent forth (them parts I like the best) And left His mother lone for Him she'd cuddled to her breast.

I like to think Avhen nights were dark- and Him at prayer maybe, Upon the gurt dark mountain side, or in His boat at sea, He AA-orried just a bit for her, Avho'd b learnt Him at her knee.

And maybe when He minds her ways, He will not let Jan fall— I'm thinkin' He Avill know my boy, Avith his dear ways, an' all— With his tanned face, his eyes of blue, and he so strappin' tall. Marjorie Wilson. Westminster "Gazette."