I only know he’s bigger in his uniform to-day
      Than I, who stand and watch him as he drills, have ever been;
    That he sees a greater vision of life’s purpose far away,
      And a finer goal to die for than my eyes have ever seen.

I wish I felt as he does, wish I had his sense of right;
With the vision he possesses I should be supremely glad;
But I sometimes start to choking when I think of him at night—­
The boy that has grown bigger, yes, and better than his dad.

         The Boy’s Adventure

“Dear Father,” he wrote me from Somewhere in France,
Where he’s waiting with Pershing to lead the advance,
“There’s little the censor permits me to tell
Save the fact that I’m here and am happy and well. 
The French people cheered as we marched from our ship
At the close of a really remarkable trip;
They danced and they screamed and they shouted and ran,
And I blush as I write.  I was kissed by a man!

    “I’ve seen a great deal since I bade you good-bye,
    I have witnessed a battle far up in the sky;
    I have heard the dull roar of a long line of guns,
    And seen the destruction that’s worked by the Huns;
    Some scenes I’ll remember, and some I’ll forget,
    But the welcome he gave me!  I’m feeling it yet. 
    Oh, try to imagine your boy if you can,
    As he looked and he felt, being kissed by a man!

    “‘Ah, Meestaire!’ he cried in a voice that was shrill,
    And his queer little eyes with delight seemed to fill,
    And before I was wise to the custom, or knew
    Just what he was up to, about me he threw
    His arms, and he hugged me, and then with a squeak,
    He planted a chaste little kiss on each cheek. 
    He was stocky and strong and his whiskers were tan. 
    Now please keep it dark.  I’ve been kissed by a man.”

         Out of It All

Out of it all shall come splendor and gladness;
Out of the madness and out of the sadness,
Clearer and finer the world shall arise. 
Why then keep sorrow and doubt in your eyes?

Joy shall be ours when the warfare is over;
Children shall gleefully romp in the clover;
Here with our heroes at home and at rest,
We shall rejoice with the world at its best.

    Not in vain, not in vain, is our bright banner flying;
    Not for naught are the sons of our fond mothers dying;
    The gloom and despair are not ever to last;
    The world shall be better when they shall have passed.

So mourn not his absence, but smile and be brave;
You shall have him again from the brink of the grave
In a wonderful world ’neath a wonderful sun;
He shall come to your arms with his victory won.

         The Christmas Box

Oh, we have shipped his Christmas box with ribbons red ’tis tied,
And he shall find the things he likes from them he loves inside,
But he must miss the kisses true and all the laughter gay
And he must miss the smiles of home upon his Christmas Day.