ANNIE ROTHWELL CHRISTIE
GONE! brother, lover, son!Gone forth to certain peril, toil and pain,And chance of death—for country counted gain.Our part to let them go; to say, "Not oneWould we hold back," to giveOur hearts' best treasures to our mother-landThough the gift break them; firm of lip and handTo bid farewell; to say, "Be strong, and liveVictors, or die deserving." Who shall deemOur part the easier? or the place we hold—Patience for courage—for the deed the dream—Waiting for action,—service slight or cold?What shall we give them? Words?To them, obedient to the bounds of faith,To them, enduring danger, fencing death,Words were as stones for bread. Were our speech swords,And were our frail hopes shields,Then might we give them; but how frame our thoughtNor mar the harvest-gift their truth has broughtWith the poor fruit a woman's nature yieldsWhen love sows seed? Hush! let us keep our soulsIn silence—Words of comfort, words of cheer,But mock the senses when the war-cloud rollsBlack 'twixt the eyes and all the heart holds dear.What can we give them? Prayers?Shall not the God of battles work His will?He guards, He smites. Our strength is to be stillAnd wait His word; to cast aside our caresAnd trust His justice. StrifeAnd peace are in His hand. They who shall seeVictorious days, and in the time to beShall share again the toils and joys of lifeAre His—but not less His are they who fall,(Sealing their soul's devotion with their breath)And not less loved that, true to duty's call,Their crown of honor comes to them in death.What shall we give them? Tears?Tears least of all! Shame not their valor so—Honor and manhood call them; let them go,Nor make farewell twice parting by your tears.O, woman-heart, be strong!Too full for words—too humble for a prayer—Too faithful to be fearful—offer hereYour sacrifice of patience. Not for longThe darkness. When the dawn of peace breaks brightBlessed she who welcomes whom her God shall save,But honored in her God's and country's sightShe who lifts empty arms to cry, "I gave!"
GONE! brother, lover, son!Gone forth to certain peril, toil and pain,And chance of death—for country counted gain.Our part to let them go; to say, "Not oneWould we hold back," to giveOur hearts' best treasures to our mother-landThough the gift break them; firm of lip and handTo bid farewell; to say, "Be strong, and liveVictors, or die deserving." Who shall deemOur part the easier? or the place we hold—Patience for courage—for the deed the dream—Waiting for action,—service slight or cold?What shall we give them? Words?To them, obedient to the bounds of faith,To them, enduring danger, fencing death,Words were as stones for bread. Were our speech swords,And were our frail hopes shields,Then might we give them; but how frame our thoughtNor mar the harvest-gift their truth has broughtWith the poor fruit a woman's nature yieldsWhen love sows seed? Hush! let us keep our soulsIn silence—Words of comfort, words of cheer,But mock the senses when the war-cloud rollsBlack 'twixt the eyes and all the heart holds dear.What can we give them? Prayers?Shall not the God of battles work His will?He guards, He smites. Our strength is to be stillAnd wait His word; to cast aside our caresAnd trust His justice. StrifeAnd peace are in His hand. They who shall seeVictorious days, and in the time to beShall share again the toils and joys of lifeAre His—but not less His are they who fall,(Sealing their soul's devotion with their breath)And not less loved that, true to duty's call,Their crown of honor comes to them in death.What shall we give them? Tears?Tears least of all! Shame not their valor so—Honor and manhood call them; let them go,Nor make farewell twice parting by your tears.O, woman-heart, be strong!Too full for words—too humble for a prayer—Too faithful to be fearful—offer hereYour sacrifice of patience. Not for longThe darkness. When the dawn of peace breaks brightBlessed she who welcomes whom her God shall save,But honored in her God's and country's sightShe who lifts empty arms to cry, "I gave!"
GONE! brother, lover, son!Gone forth to certain peril, toil and pain,And chance of death—for country counted gain.Our part to let them go; to say, "Not oneWould we hold back," to giveOur hearts' best treasures to our mother-landThough the gift break them; firm of lip and handTo bid farewell; to say, "Be strong, and liveVictors, or die deserving." Who shall deemOur part the easier? or the place we hold—Patience for courage—for the deed the dream—Waiting for action,—service slight or cold?
GONE! brother, lover, son!
Gone forth to certain peril, toil and pain,
And chance of death—for country counted gain.
Our part to let them go; to say, "Not one
Would we hold back," to give
Our hearts' best treasures to our mother-land
Though the gift break them; firm of lip and hand
To bid farewell; to say, "Be strong, and live
Victors, or die deserving." Who shall deem
Our part the easier? or the place we hold—
Patience for courage—for the deed the dream—
Waiting for action,—service slight or cold?
What shall we give them? Words?To them, obedient to the bounds of faith,To them, enduring danger, fencing death,Words were as stones for bread. Were our speech swords,And were our frail hopes shields,Then might we give them; but how frame our thoughtNor mar the harvest-gift their truth has broughtWith the poor fruit a woman's nature yieldsWhen love sows seed? Hush! let us keep our soulsIn silence—Words of comfort, words of cheer,But mock the senses when the war-cloud rollsBlack 'twixt the eyes and all the heart holds dear.
What shall we give them? Words?
To them, obedient to the bounds of faith,
To them, enduring danger, fencing death,
Words were as stones for bread. Were our speech swords,
And were our frail hopes shields,
Then might we give them; but how frame our thought
Nor mar the harvest-gift their truth has brought
With the poor fruit a woman's nature yields
When love sows seed? Hush! let us keep our souls
In silence—Words of comfort, words of cheer,
But mock the senses when the war-cloud rolls
Black 'twixt the eyes and all the heart holds dear.
What can we give them? Prayers?Shall not the God of battles work His will?He guards, He smites. Our strength is to be stillAnd wait His word; to cast aside our caresAnd trust His justice. StrifeAnd peace are in His hand. They who shall seeVictorious days, and in the time to beShall share again the toils and joys of lifeAre His—but not less His are they who fall,(Sealing their soul's devotion with their breath)And not less loved that, true to duty's call,Their crown of honor comes to them in death.
What can we give them? Prayers?
Shall not the God of battles work His will?
He guards, He smites. Our strength is to be still
And wait His word; to cast aside our cares
And trust His justice. Strife
And peace are in His hand. They who shall see
Victorious days, and in the time to be
Shall share again the toils and joys of life
Are His—but not less His are they who fall,
(Sealing their soul's devotion with their breath)
And not less loved that, true to duty's call,
Their crown of honor comes to them in death.
What shall we give them? Tears?Tears least of all! Shame not their valor so—Honor and manhood call them; let them go,Nor make farewell twice parting by your tears.O, woman-heart, be strong!Too full for words—too humble for a prayer—Too faithful to be fearful—offer hereYour sacrifice of patience. Not for longThe darkness. When the dawn of peace breaks brightBlessed she who welcomes whom her God shall save,But honored in her God's and country's sightShe who lifts empty arms to cry, "I gave!"
What shall we give them? Tears?
Tears least of all! Shame not their valor so—
Honor and manhood call them; let them go,
Nor make farewell twice parting by your tears.
O, woman-heart, be strong!
Too full for words—too humble for a prayer—
Too faithful to be fearful—offer here
Your sacrifice of patience. Not for long
The darkness. When the dawn of peace breaks bright
Blessed she who welcomes whom her God shall save,
But honored in her God's and country's sight
She who lifts empty arms to cry, "I gave!"