The Mother Faith

Little mother, life’s adventure calls your boy away,
Yet he will return to you on some brighter day;
Dry your tears and cease to sigh, keep your mother smile,
Brave and strong he will come back in a little while.

Little mother, heed them not—­they who preach despair—­
You shall have your boy again, brave and oh, so fair! 
Life has need of him to-day, but with victory won,
Safely life shall bring to you once again your son.

    Little mother, keep the faith:  not to death he goes;
    Share with him the joy of worth that your soldier knows. 
    He is giving to the Flag all that man can give,
    And if you believe he will, surely he will live.

Little mother, through the night of his absence long,
Never cease to think of him—­brave and well and strong;
You shall know his kiss again, you shall see his smile,
For your boy shall come to you in a little while.

         Thoughts of a Soldier

Since men with life must purchase life
And some must die that more may live,
Unto the Great Cashier of strife
A fine accounting let me give. 
Perhaps to-morrow I shall stand
Before his cage, prepared to buy
New splendor for my native land: 
Oh, God, then bravely let me die!

    If after I shall fall, shall rise
      A fairer land than I have known,
    I shall not grudge my sacrifice,
      Although I pay the price alone. 
    If still more beautiful to see
      The Stars and Stripes o’er men shall wave
    And finer shall my country be,
      To-morrow let me find my grave.

    To-night life seems so fair and sweet,
      Yet tyranny is stalking here,
    And hate and lust and foul deceit
      Hang heavy on the atmosphere. 
    Injustice seeks to throttle right,
      And laughter’s stifled to a sigh. 
    If death can take so great a blight
      From human lives, then let me die.

    If death must be the cost of life,
      And freedom’s terms are human souls,
    Into the thickest of the strife
      Then let me go to pay the tolls. 
    I would enrich my native land,
      New splendor to her flag I’d give,
    If where I fall shall freedom stand,
      And where I die shall freedom live.

    To-morrow death with me may trade;
      Let me not quibble o’er the price;
    But may I, once the bargain’s made,
      With courage meet the sacrifice. 
    If happiness for ages long
      My little term of life can buy,
    God, for my country make me strong;
      To-morrow let me bravely die.

         The Flag on the Farm

We’ve raised a flagpole on the farm
And flung Old Glory to the sky,
And it’s another touch of charm
That seems to cheer the passer-by,
But more than that, no matter where
We’re laboring in wood and field,
We turn and see it in the air,
Our promise of a greater yield. 
It whispers to us all day long
From dawn to dusk:  “Be true, be strong;
Who falters now with plough or hoe
Gives comfort to his country’s foe.”