PS 3513 
 
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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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 WAR MOTHERS 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 By 
 EDWARD F. GARESCHE, S.J. 
 
 NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO 
 
 BENZIGER BROTHERS 
 
 PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE 
 
 1918 
 
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 Copyright, 1918, 
 By Benzigbr Brothers 
 
 NOV 23 - 
 
TO JOYCE KILMER 
 
 Who died in France in the Service of his 
 Country, July Thirtieth, Nineteen Eighteen 
 
 Who shall bear me this token 
 
 SMALL 
 
 Unto Our Lady past the skies? 
 Who shall give it, faults and all, 
 Unto the pity of her eyes? 
 
 There is one, but lately gone. 
 Whom tenderly she looks upon. 
 Will you take it to her, friend ? 
 And with the gift my heart i send. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Dedication 
 
 . 5 
 
 War Mothers 
 
 9 
 
 Our Lady op the Battlefield 
 
 . 19 
 
 On Women's Day . 
 
 21 
 
 To the Blessed Jeanne D 'Arc 
 
 . 29 
 
 To A Warrior Gone 
 
 37 
 
 To Sergeant Joyce Kilmer I 
 
 . 43 
 
 To Sergeant Joyce Kilmer II . 
 
 47 
 
 Mother of Orphans . 
 
 . 51 
 
 To His Mother 
 
 55 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 T DREAM 
 
 -■• White, eager faces ; and mine ears 
 
 Are haunted with a sound of hidden 
 tears. 
 
 Yet ye that meet me smile and mildly- 
 cheerful seem. 
 
 Whence is this sound of grief that 
 haunts the days, 
 
 And where its hidden ways? 
 
 ' ' I have an only son, ' ' she said, 
 ''Yonder to France last morn he sped, 
 May holy angels guard his head.'' 
 And then she smiled. 
 I warrant that pale smile knew more 
 Of courage, fortitude, and pain 
 Than where yon stalwart legions pour 
 
 9 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 To scale the roaring heights amain. 
 While her brave lips their smiling 
 
 kept, 
 I heard — it was her heart that wept. 
 
 ''And mine/* 
 
 Another spake, ''have gone away all 
 
 three ; 
 One on the sea to guard the ships 
 
 would fare, 
 His father's sword the other lad 
 
 would bear, 
 And, both their separate dangers to 
 
 combine. 
 The third goes questing on the 
 
 desperate air. ' ' 
 So did she smile, but in her heart 
 
 there bled [red. 
 
 A triple wound, and every gash was 
 10 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 ''And my two sons," another spake, 
 ''Have left me for their country's 
 
 sake. 
 I know not where they are, but know 
 God's mightiness doth guard them 
 
 where they go." 
 And she 
 Smiled likewise. But my inner heart 
 
 could see 
 Her heart — and it was agony. 
 
 Ah, mothers, who with wistful gaze 
 Have watched your lissom sons grow 
 
 tall. 
 And kept 
 
 Such vigils 'er them while they slept, 
 And seen them rise 
 To such young strength and glory, 
 
 one and all, 
 
 11 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Till you can trace 
 
 Their father's youthful beauty in 
 
 their face 
 And feel your heart grow young 
 Along with their sweet growing, and 
 
 it seems 
 They shall fulfil your dearest dreams 
 
 of dreams, 
 And on their brows your very soul is 
 
 hung, 
 And all your heartstrings woven with 
 
 their days — 
 
 Do you remember how you wished 
 
 that they, 
 These tiny, clinging, winsome babes, 
 
 would wait 
 Awhile in the first rosy blush of 
 
 days — 
 12 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 And not so soon grow great 
 
 And win to man's estate, 
 
 Leaving you lonely, widowed of their 
 
 play, 
 Their dear dependence, and their 
 
 tender ways ? 
 As well beseech the dawning to delay. 
 
 Do you remember when, 
 With mingled joy and sorrow, 
 You woke — and they were men 
 'Twixt yester and to-morrow ? 
 And you, uncertain if to laugh or 
 
 grieve, 
 This new, strange, stalwart creature 
 
 must receive. 
 Wheedle his rude and awkward 
 
 strength, [length. 
 
 Surprise his bashful confidence at 
 
 13 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 And for the future plan 
 Of the commencing man, 
 Yet half regretful still to lose the 
 child? 
 
 And now they all are gone. 
 
 The dusty lines pour on 
 
 To shore, to ship, to battle o'er the 
 
 seas. 
 In fiery haste, elate 
 With valor new and great. 
 Who are these legions, and what limbs 
 
 are these? 
 They are the worthy sons 
 Of these most valiant ones — 
 These mothers who can send them 
 
 forth and smile. 
 No eye must see or guess 
 That inward, dry distress; 
 
 14 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 The heart must hide its bloody tears 
 awhile. 
 
 Jesu and Mary ! It but seems a year 
 Since these great lads as tiny were as 
 dear — 
 
 Yea, since their mothers' bosoms still 
 
 « 
 
 could hold 
 Their tender, helpless limbs and cuddle 
 
 them from cold. 
 These smiling mothers watch the 
 
 ranks and see, 
 Beneath the man that is, the babe that 
 
 used to be. 
 
 Ah, who then shall console 
 
 These women who give up their better 
 
 soul? 
 "Who, merciful, impart 
 
 15 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Deep solace to their brave and 
 wounded heart? 
 
 On Calvary 
 
 The most afflicted Mother stands. 
 
 Her soul is crucified ; for she 
 
 Sees her dear Son with wounded 
 
 Heart and Hands. 
 She gives Him, anguished, to the 
 
 shameful tree, 
 Of her great love for Grod, for men, 
 
 and me. 
 Ah, then, shall any fate 
 Of their sweet sons make mothers 
 
 desolate ? 
 Shall they not rather take 
 Comfort for Mary's sake, 
 Giving, as she could give, [live? 
 
 Their dearest sons that other sons may 
 16 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 These mothers know the best, 
 Having thus suffered, what the Virgin 
 
 bore. 
 Thus her maternal breast 
 Shall mother them, who knew such 
 
 sorrow sore — 
 This is dear anguish, this is heart's 
 
 true gain 
 Through bitter pain. 
 Their woe 
 
 A triple blessing shall bestow. 
 Unto their hearts a peace, 
 Bright glory to their sons 
 Who dare the roaring guns, 
 And to the free 
 A rapturous victory ! 
 Smile, brave mother, smile, 
 Till, here or afterwhile, [to thee ! 
 
 Sweet Mary leads thy brave son back 
 
 17 
 
OUR LADY OF THE BATTLE- 
 FIELD 
 
 AH, in that turmoil of revengeful 
 flame 
 I see them fall! I see their startled 
 
 eyes 
 Go wandering to the blue, unshaken 
 
 skies, 
 And hear their quivering lips repeat 
 — a Name: 
 
 ''Mother!" in every mortal tongue 
 
 the same. 
 The first they learned to lisp, the last 
 
 to rise 
 From their parched throats. They 
 
 yearn in childish wise 
 For sheltering arms, remembering 
 
 whence they came. 
 
 19 
 
WAR ]\I OTHERS 
 
 Their mothers are afar. But thou, I 
 know, 
 
 Most wistfully, who Mother art to all, 
 
 Forever through the battle 's rage dost 
 go 
 
 To soothe thy piteous sons where'er 
 they fall. 
 
 "When their poor plaintive tones for 
 mother cry. 
 
 Thou hear 'st — and swift their heaven- 
 ly Mother's nigh. 
 
 20 
 
ON WOMEN'S DAY 
 
 DOWN the hushed streets and 
 through the gazing files 
 They march in ranks who never 
 
 marched before. 
 All the loud city hath arrayed its 
 
 aisles 
 With cleanliness and peace. Are these 
 the ranks of war? 
 
 Down the street, 
 
 Where the swirling tides of gazers 
 
 part and meet, 
 Where the town 
 Looks with thousand eyes from every 
 
 vantage down, 
 And the craggy buildings, grim and 
 
 high. 
 Lift their living wreaths of watchers 
 
 toward the sky, 
 
 21 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Under windows crowded with the 
 
 world, 
 Lo, the marching files of women come, 
 With the martial cry of fife and roar 
 
 of drum, 
 Stepping, stepping on, erect, benign, 
 Stepping forward strongly and in line. 
 
 Who are here? 
 
 Why the crowd's exulting gaze, its 
 reverential cheer? 
 
 Look on these novel files, man, and 
 see 
 
 The hope and emblem of Democracy ! 
 
 For in these lines that come and pass 
 and still 
 
 Pour onward with a calm, unweary- 
 ing will [free! 
 
 Behold the mothers of the brave and 
 
 22 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Here are the rich and poor, 
 
 Side by side, 
 
 The old, the strong to endure, 
 
 And yesterday's bride. 
 
 Love has leveled their difference 
 
 away. 
 All in the ranks they march to-day. 
 
 And lo, they march ! A pride 
 
 Is in their port and mien, 
 
 A thrill they may not hide 
 
 Through all the files is seen. 
 
 What do they think of? Yonder as 
 
 they go 
 What memory shakes them, walking 
 
 row on row? 
 
 'Tis of their soldier far away. 
 What would he say 
 
 23 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 If he could see them marching strong 
 
 and free? 
 They hear, each one, a voice across 
 
 the sea: 
 ''Keep ranks. Step straight. Hold 
 
 high in line ! ' ' 
 They hear, and heed, each one with 
 
 courage stern and fine — 
 They are his soldiers and their chief 
 
 is he. 
 
 And some there are 
 
 Young, straight, and lissom. They 
 
 can bear [care. 
 
 Right bitter burdens, shoulder heavy 
 And a new courage in their heart is 
 
 born, 
 And soberness grows in them every 
 
 mom 
 
 24 
 
WAR ]\I OTHERS 
 
 Now they are left and he is gone 
 afar. 
 
 And others walk in weariness; for 
 
 they 
 Are the old mothers and their strength 
 
 is gone. 
 They are the props and pillars of the 
 
 State. 
 Out of their toil and travail cities 
 
 dawn, 
 And nations gain new sons. Securely 
 
 great 
 The land that hath great mothers for 
 
 its stay. 
 In vain its legions and its fleets would 
 
 roam 
 Did these not keep the sacred fires of 
 
 hom^e. 
 
 25 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 And so they swing along; 
 
 Their silence is a song 
 
 Majestic and insistent and elate. 
 
 Out of their weakness sprung 
 
 A mighty strength is flung 
 
 Across the seas, where sons and 
 
 brothers wait. 
 The nation's inner strength is here 
 
 displayed — 
 These women and their sons are not 
 
 afraid. 
 
 And who, 
 
 Piercing the years, avails with pre- 
 science true 
 
 The conquests to foretell 
 
 Of womanhood, that learns to march 
 so well? 
 
 26 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 God, 
 
 Who keeps them holy and in secret 
 
 sees 
 Their hidden sacrifice and sanctities, 
 Doth here impart 
 Some fleeting glimpse of woman's 
 
 strength and art. 
 Long they have trod. 
 In great processional, the silent ways 
 Of service through obscure and useful 
 
 days. 
 Now, set in ranks for all the world to 
 
 see. 
 May w^e divine 
 Their po^ver from this brave and 
 
 weary line. 
 These are the conquering legions of 
 
 the heart. 
 
 27 
 
TO THE BLESSED JEANNE 
 D'ARC 
 
 AH, sacred Jeanne, 
 With all endeavor 
 I never can 
 
 Achieve thy glorious praise, which 
 haunts my heart forever! 
 
 In thee 
 
 The very soul of France I see. 
 
 Her splendid valor lights thy holy 
 
 form 
 In the wild battle's storm; 
 And where thy heaven-sent courage 
 
 is displayed, 
 thou foredestined and anointed 
 
 Maid, 
 'Tis all thy fervid nation wields the 
 
 blade. 
 
 29 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Yea, through thy drear, strange tor- 
 ment in the flame, 
 
 Calling on Jesu's name, 
 
 'Tis France, sweet France, now an- 
 guished, that I see 
 
 Triumphing through her agonies like 
 thee. 
 
 Out of the smoky pall 
 
 She hears her voices call! 
 
 Her better soul hath birth 
 
 From devastated earth; 
 
 A purifying fire 
 
 Hath lit again her old, serene desire. 
 
 From this brief pain a secular joy 
 shall be. 
 
 And conquering, no less 
 
 Than thou, from all that fiery, swift 
 distress, [hears 
 
 Through all her pain a chorusing she 
 30 
 
WAR ]\I OTHERS 
 
 Of the approaching years, 
 
 Singing forever "Victory, victory!" 
 
 Maid of battles, bright 
 
 With an unearthly glory. 
 
 Thou virginal, dear knight 
 
 Of France's deathless story, 
 
 How hath thy blushing prowess now 
 
 again 
 Eclipsed in feats of war her valiant 
 
 men! 
 For, in thy nation's hour of high 
 
 emprise, 
 When on their sacred native land 
 Once more at bay her valiant legions 
 
 stand, 
 On thee those fighting millions turn 
 
 their eyes. 
 
 31 
 
WAR ]\I OTHERS 
 
 Thou art their guiding star 
 
 In the thick ranks of war. 
 
 E'en Bayard is forgot; 
 
 The mighty paladins of Charlemagne, 
 
 Roland and Oliver and the shining 
 train, 
 
 Unto these moiling legions matter 
 not. 
 
 With joy of heavenly aid, with mar- 
 tial glee, 
 
 They turn their gaze, their kindling 
 gaze, on thee, 
 
 And drink from thy most pure and 
 fearless glance 
 
 The shining trust, the valorous soul, 
 of France! 
 
 I hear the sullen roaring of the guns, 
 Those all-devouring ones 
 
 32 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 That bite thy quivering land and 
 
 leave it sore. 
 Ah, in their din they speak 
 Hatreds of nations, all the anguish 
 
 bleak 
 Of vanished battles. Blood and 
 
 groans and tears 
 From the departed years 
 Revive, and swell the discord of their 
 
 roar. 
 
 Then, on the darkness of the wilder- 
 
 ing storm 
 Rises a Maiden's form, 
 Her virginal limbs arrayed 
 With the strange steel that Albion's 
 
 hosts dismayed. 
 Her tender face is bright 
 With wonderful pure light, 
 
 33 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 And the soft lightening of her fear- 
 less eyes 
 
 The gathering foe defies. 
 
 * ' Jeanne ! Jeanne ! Thou lead 'st us 
 still; we follow thee!" 
 
 The very wounded cry — and leap to 
 victory. 
 
 And so 
 
 Thou fair, brave maiden with the soul 
 
 of fire, 
 Thou art undying now. Thy heart 
 
 shall go 
 Leading in every charge and all thy 
 
 ranks inspire. 
 For every great advance 
 There is a captain for the arms of 
 
 France. 
 
 34 
 
WAR ]\I OTHERS 
 
 And can we fear 
 
 Lest thy great power shall fail in any 
 
 year? 
 Or, weak of courage, doubt 
 That thy keen, heaven- wrought sword 
 
 shall put all foes to rout? 
 
 Ah, not in vain, 
 
 Girl of Domremy, all thy woe and 
 
 pain, 
 The voices and the wonder and the 
 
 fear! 
 Not vain the searing fire 
 That matched thy soul's desire 
 And set thee free from all that bound 
 
 thee here ! 
 
 Thou art immortal now, in every war 
 Thy country's avatar, 
 
 35 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Her hope, her liberty. 
 Her soul hath passed to thee, 
 And thy bright memory keeps her 
 spirit free! 
 
TO A WARRIOR GONE 
 
 OLORD MICHAEL, puissant and 
 glorious, 
 Tell me how he came to thee, where 
 
 thy legions are. 
 From the dark and from the din, the 
 
 stark fray uproarious, 
 Winning up his eager way from star 
 unto star. 
 
 Did he come before his time from 
 
 that fight furious, 
 Leaping up the lanes of light before 
 
 he heard a call, 
 Ere he wearied of the earth, of 
 
 heaven curious, 
 Casting mortal days away ere he 
 
 gleaned them all? 
 
 37 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 How I fain would hear of him in that 
 
 new mustering 
 Where his welcomed spirit shines 
 
 midst his holy peers, 
 Where the gallant hosts of God in 
 
 gold glory clustering 
 Shout for the new recruits coming 
 
 through the years! 
 
 He will be a noble guard, in white 
 
 armor glistening, 
 Where the Blessed Mary goes with 
 
 her gentle train. 
 He will stand in golden state, to her 
 
 voice listening. 
 While she sings ''Magnificat" and 
 
 heaven thrills again. 
 
 38 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 He will touch a mighty harp to great 
 
 lays and beautiful; 
 They will gather there to list as we 
 
 came here, 
 While he sings to every saint fair 
 
 songs and dutiful, 
 Chanting with a new voice, charming 
 
 heaven's ear. 
 
 He will give to Christ the King his 
 
 great heart's loyalty. 
 Loving to be near to Him, eyes on 
 
 Him alone. 
 What will his station be in God's 
 r^ bright royalty? 
 
 He will join the flaming band that 
 
 stand about the throne; 
 
 39 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 He will watch the White Throne, his 
 
 bright lance carrying, 
 And be Our Lady's messenger, her 
 
 little ones to aid; 
 He will love to come again, in old 
 
 haunts tarrying, 
 Bringing Blessed Mary's help when 
 
 we cry afraid ; 
 
 He will walk in heaven's streets and 
 
 seek their holy history. 
 Loving every stone of them worn by 
 
 human feet; 
 He will yearn to untwine the stars' 
 
 sweet mystery — 
 Oh, the quest for holy lore, he will 
 
 find it sweet! 
 
 40 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Lord Michael, puissant and glori- 
 ous, 
 
 Tell me how he came to thee, where 
 thy legions are, 
 
 From the dark and from the din, the 
 stark fray uproarious, 
 
 Winning up his eager way from star 
 unto star. 
 
 41 
 
TO SERGEANT JOYCE KILMER 
 
 Slain in Battle, 
 July Thirtieth, Nineteen Eighteen 
 
 I 
 
 DEAD?— 
 Dull page, thou liest. He shall 
 
 live forever. 
 His fiery spirit but begins to live. 
 He hath achieved what was his great 
 
 endeavor, 
 Winning that Life that only death 
 
 can give. 
 Forever keen to run where honor led, 
 If he be gone 
 It was his dauntless soul, not death, 
 
 that bare him on. 
 Ah, honor, honor, honor on his head ! 
 
 I know — [the foe. 
 
 Ye need not tell — his face was toward 
 
 43 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 He was far forward in the panting 
 
 line; 
 He did his part right well, 
 And when he fell 
 His comrades wept — it could not but 
 
 be so. 
 To be far forward was his gracious 
 
 art — 
 He had a nation's valor in his heart! 
 
 Ye say- 
 He had been oft in peril ere the day, 
 Oft crept beyond into the Place of 
 
 Fear, 
 Outlying in the grim and perilous 
 
 dark 
 That haply he might mark 
 Some stirring of the foe, some whis- 
 pering tidings hear. 
 44 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Ah, those long hours he wrestled with 
 
 dismay ! 
 He scorned not pain and fear — he 
 
 was more strong than they. 
 
 Then do not weep; 
 
 Or weep for us that knew him and 
 
 are lorn. 
 He doth not sleep, 
 
 But wakes in vigor to another morn. 
 That passion and endeavor and desire 
 Blossom to glory in a kindlier air. 
 Yea, we might be right merry for his 
 
 sake 
 If we but knew that joy whereto he*s 
 
 gone, 
 And comfort take. 
 Catching some glimpses of his sudden 
 
 dawn. 
 
 45 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Yet here, 
 
 Even in the passion of our loyal 
 
 pride, 
 A furtive tear 
 Reminds our hearts how great a 
 
 friend hath died. 
 It is no treason for ourselves to 
 
 grieve. 
 But thou, dear friend, in thy new 
 
 life receive 
 Our everlasting honor and acclaim. 
 Thine earthly fame. 
 Which is a shadow to the glories great 
 That Christ prepares for thee, 
 Who set thy spirit free 
 With His bright champions round 
 
 His throne to wait 
 In that eternal pomp, that deathless 
 
 jubilee. 
 46 
 
TO SERGEANT JOYCE KILMER 
 II 
 
 TT was an eagerness, not martial 
 
 -*• pride, 
 
 That took him to the front of raging 
 fire. 
 
 It was an eagerness that ever tried 
 
 To struggle nearer to his chief desire. 
 
 He thirsted for his God and hastened 
 hence 
 
 As to a holy tryst. He lightly died 
 
 Because to die in all mankind's de- 
 fence 
 
 Would lift him nearer to the Cruci- 
 fied. 
 
 Sweet friend, I have for thee nor 
 grief nor fears, 
 
 47 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 My tears are all for others than for 
 thee. 
 
 I would not wrong thy memory with 
 tears ; 
 
 Death was thy life and set thy glory 
 free. 
 
 It is for us who linger that I weep, 
 
 For we must travel slowly down the 
 years ; [leap, 
 
 Thou gainest heaven with a sudden 
 
 How far, to us, that golden goal ap- 
 pears ! 
 
 It was thy manner — swiftly to attain, 
 To run the course whilst others sought 
 
 the way! 
 Thou hadst a sweet facility to gain 
 Some instant prize, impatient of de- 
 lay. 
 48 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Thou couldst so featly, from the 
 nimble dance 
 
 Of passing deeds, abiding joys detain, 
 
 Master the fickle shifts of circum- 
 stance, 
 
 And make a song from weariness or 
 pain ! 
 
 Thou wast a poet, living songs more 
 
 sweet 
 Than thou couldst sing. Thy passing 
 
 was a song. 
 Thy greatest, which the ages shall 
 
 repeat 
 And dwell with yearning on its echoes 
 
 long. 
 All of thine other songs have light 
 
 from this, 
 
 49 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 In this vast concord all thy singing 
 meets ; 
 
 Here, thou hast snared the very soul 
 of bliss, 
 
 This vast refrain thy melodies com- 
 pletes ! 
 
 50 
 
MOTHER OF ORPHANS 
 
 DEEP 
 In their white cots, the Belgian 
 
 orphans sleep, 
 Dear, tired waifs, for a great sea of 
 
 woe 
 Hath tossed them to and fro 
 Most wearily. So, tranquil now they 
 
 rest, 
 Each in a snowy nest. 
 The roaring waves of war their prey 
 
 release 
 On these soft coasts of peace. 
 
 Poor dears! They're motherless! 
 And they are most in need of mother 
 
 now. 
 They need her looks to bless 
 Their tender days. How every little 
 
 brow 
 
 51 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Yearns for a lingering kiss, a strok- 
 ing hand — 
 
 Oh, are they all quite orphaned in 
 the land? 
 
 Ah, see ! 
 
 They moan; and restlessly 
 
 Their tiny hands are groping in their 
 
 dreams. 
 It is too sad a thing ! 
 More cruel than wildest war this deep 
 
 privation seems — 
 These lambs want mothering ! 
 
 Then, in the loneliest hour of all the 
 
 night, [cry. 
 
 The Lady Mary hears in heaven their 
 
 In that undreamed-of and exultant 
 
 light 
 
 52 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 She harks, and lo! is in an instant 
 
 nigh. 
 As a fond mother, lightly sleeping, 
 
 hears 
 Her infant wail, so straightway she 
 
 appears ! 
 
 Ah, how her lingering kiss 
 
 Wakes in lone little hearts vague 
 
 dreams of bliss, 
 And the soft thrill of her caressing 
 
 touch 
 Can comfort them who have endured 
 
 so much ! 
 For she doth know 
 The very art of mothers. She could 
 
 keep 
 The little Jesus cuddled in His sleep. 
 
 53 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Thus to and fro 
 
 She gives these babes that wondrous 
 
 sweet caress 
 Which God's own Son was used to 
 
 soothe and bless, 
 Mothers them dearly, for she loves 
 
 them so. 
 And after she hath lulled them for a 
 
 while 
 And back to heaven must go, 
 Even in their sleep these wan, small 
 
 orphans smile! 
 
 54 
 
TO HIS MOTHER 
 
 'Vr AY, never weep. 
 
 -^^ For he hath won beyond all 
 sad tomorrows; 
 
 His weary ashes sleep 
 
 Far in sweet France ; his soul, assoiled 
 of sorrows, 
 
 With unsuspected longing leaps be- 
 fore 
 
 Unto his God. He lives. So weep 
 no more. 
 
 I know — 
 
 A mother's heart 
 
 Is fertile still of tears. 
 
 Her griefs unbidden start, 
 
 And she will not be tutored in her 
 
 woe. 
 Her anxious love is very full of fears. 
 
 55 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Ah, love must bleed and suffer all the 
 
 years ! — 
 God made all mothers so. 
 
 But now 
 
 Thy time of grief is over. He is 
 
 gone, 
 But is not lost. Nay, rather he has 
 
 won 
 Abiding peace. Christ cherishes thy 
 
 son. 
 There is a light of glory on his brow. 
 While all exultant ages carol on 
 He shall have naught but joy where 
 
 God hath put him now. 
 
 Ah, wouldst thou pray 
 To have him caught again in webs of 
 care ? 
 56 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 How serious and worthy was his way 
 Through a swift death to lasting 
 
 glories there! 
 He won his goal with such a brief 
 
 delay ! 
 
 Wouldst thou^ dear mother, have him 
 
 once again 
 Take up the burden of uncertain 
 
 years ; 
 Give pledges untc weariness and pain ; 
 And be the toy of woe, the sport of 
 
 fears ? 
 
 Then leave 
 
 All bootless sorrow Only pine and 
 
 grieve 
 For those that know not honor, faith, 
 
 and truth. 
 
 57 
 
WAR MOTHERS 
 
 Thy dear one doth receive 
 For his brief dying an immortal 
 youth. 
 
 Swift through the years to his dear 
 
 arms thou 'It go, 
 For God hath planned it so. 
 And life but leads thee nearer day 
 
 by day 
 To that celestial tryst, that secular 
 
 holiday ! 
 
 PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 58 
 
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