THE BOYS’ RETURN.

BY GERALD MASSEY.

      Wives, mothers, sweethearts sent
        Their dearest; waved their own defenders forth;
      And, fit companions for the bravest, went
        The Boys, to test their manhood, prove their worth.

      As Sons of those who braved
        All dangers; to Earth’s ends our Flag unfurled,
      The old pioneers of Ocean, who have paved
        Our pathway with their bones around the world!

      To-day the City waits,
        Proudly a-throb with life about to be: 
      She welcomes her young warriors in her gates
        Of glory, opened to them by the Sea.

      Let no cur bark, or spurt
        Defilement, trying to tarnish this fair fame;
      No Alien drag our Banner through the dirt
        Because it blazons England’s noble name.

      Upon the lips of Praise
        They lay their own hands, saying, "We have not won
      Great battles for you, nor Immortal bays,
        But what your boys were given to do is done!"

      When Clouds were closing round
        The Island-home, our Pole-star of the North,
      Australia fired her Beacons—­rose up crowned
        With a new dawn upon the ancient earth.

      For us they filled a cup
        More rare than any we can brim to them! 
      The patriot-passion did so lift men up,
        They looked as if each wore a diadem!

      Best honours we shall give,
        If to that loftier outlook still we climb;
      And in our unborn children there shall live
        The larger spirit of this great quickening time.

      To-day is the Women’s day! 
        With them there’s no more need o’ the proud disguise
      They wore when their young heroes sailed away;
        Soft smiles the dewy fire in loving eyes!

      And, when to the full breast,
        O mothers! your re-given ones you take,
      And in your long embraces they are blest,
        Give them one hug at heart for England’s sake.

      The Mother of us all! 
        Dear to us, near to us, though so far apart;
      For whose defence we are sworn to stand or fall
        In the same battle as Brothers one at heart.

      All one to bear the brunt,
        All one we move together in the march,
      Shoulder to shoulder; to the Foe all front,
        The wide world round; all heaven one Triumph Arch.

      One in the war of Mind
        For clearing earth of all dark Jungle-Powers;
      One for the Federation of mankind,
        Who will speak one language, and that language ours.

“SOUND THE ASSEMBLY!”

BY CLEMENT SCOTT.

(From Punch’s Souvenir.  May 3rd, 1900.)