Part 3 (2/2)

This is the song for a soldier To sing as he rides from home To the fields afar where the battles are Or over the ocean's foam: 'Whatever the dangers waiting In the lands I have not seen, If I do not fall--if I come back at all, Then I will come back clean.

'I may lie in the mud of the trenches, I may reek with blood and mire, But I will control, by the G.o.d in my soul, The might of my man's desire.

I will fight my foe in the open, But my sword shall be sharp and keen For the foe within who would lure me to sin, And I will come back clean.

'I may not leave for my children Brave medals that I have worn, But the blood in my veins shall leave no stains On bride or on babes unborn; And the scars that my body may carry Shall not be from deeds obscene, For my will shall say to the beast, OBEY!

And I will come back clean.

'Oh, not on the fields of slaughter And not in the prison-cell, Or in hunger and cold is the story told By war, of its darkest h.e.l.l.

But the old, old sin of the senses Can tell what that word may mean To the soldiers' wives and to innocent lives, And I will come back clean.'

CAMOUFLAGE

Camouflage is all the rage.

Ladies in their fight with age - Soldiers in their fight with foes - Demagogues who mask and pose In the guise of statesmen--girls Black of eyes with golden curls - Politicians, votes in mind, Smiling, affable and kind, All use camouflage to-day.

As you go upon your way, Walk with caution, move with care; Camouflage is everywhere!

THE AWAKENING

I said, 'I will place my heart, my heart all broken, Beside the world's torn heart, that it may know The comrades.h.i.+p of sorrow that is not spoken, But is carried on wings of all the winds that blow.

I will go homeless into homes of grieving, And find my own grief easier to be borne.'

So over menacing seas I went, believing Where all was mourning, I would cease to mourn.

And now I am here, close to the great world-sorrow, Here where each heart some mighty grief has known; But from each suffering soul I seem to borrow A poignant pain that but augments my own.

The earth is like one vast tempestuous ocean, Where struggling beings fight for light and breath: I feel their anguish, feel each keen emotion - Yet through it all, I KNOW THERE IS NO DEATH.

And as we toss on billows red with slaughter, Unto each tortured, anguished soul I cry, 'There are green lands beyond this raging water, We shall come into harbour by and by.

Our dead dwell near, life is a thing eternal: And I have talked with One from that fair sh.o.r.e.

We are but pa.s.sing through a dream infernal; We shall awake, we shall be glad once more.'

THE KHAKI BOYS WHO WERE NOT AT THE FRONT

Oh! it is not just the men who face the guns, Not the fighters at the Front alone, to-day Who will bring the longed-for close to the b.l.o.o.d.y fray, for those Could not carry on that fray without the ones Who are working at war's problems far away.

You are ALL our splendid heroes in the strife, And we cla.s.s you with the warriors maimed and scarred, Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear, While you laboured in the dull routine of life In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred.

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