To Avelan

To Avelan

(From Mother, at the Hospital, Aug., 1917)

I found your flowers, sweet lad, when I awoke, —

Fresh gladiolus in their crystal vase.

Tall, brave and bright, your message, dear, they spoke

In dew and color in this clean, white place

In which I lie, — lie close, and think of you;

Of God, and Life; of Death, and War;

The World, and its work to do.

There have been other days, and other flowers,

Roses, carnations, "sweets to the sweet," you said,

And laughed your carefree mood straight to my heart,

And charmed the Ghosts of Pain far from my bed.

But these, your "glad flowers," dear, have won their prize

Of smiles from my life, 'tis true,

But scalding tears from my eyes.

For well I know there will come future days

With only dream flowers — and your face between.

And, with the love-light in your eyes, dear, gaze,

A sterner and a sadder face I ween

As well befits a soldier of the Free, —

A soldier of the Cross, and mine, 0 boy,

0 man! 0 child of the heart of me!

1 love my country and my country's creed,

And all it stands for. Most because it shields

The pennon white of Christ, and to its need

Swiftly my gift of gifts I freely yield.

Not blatantly, but with a patient trust,

Glad that I can, my son,

But sad, so sad that I must!

The beat of marching feet threads through my dream,

The throb of martial music. On the brow

Of every hill our loved Old Glory gleams —

For every day, dear heart, is Flag Day now.

This, the beginning. Where will be the end

Of war's alarms and its uncertainties?

TO AVELAN 289

And when we part, where will we meet again,

And when, and how? We ask God on our knees,

Nor dare to think what might the future hold,

But cling to our faith in the right

Till the earth and the stars grow cold.

In peace secure we've walked through all our days.

Serene our vales lay fruitful in the sun.

We've gone, at work, at play, our various ways,

Lain down in peace when the day's work was done.

Rehearsed on fete-days' deeds of patriots bold ;

Recounted prowess oft in song and story —

Sweet tales they were to us and often told,

Filled like dried rose-leaves with an ancient glory.

For special days and deeds our flag unfurled,

Proud of its might, my son,

And its light to the wide, wide world.

But now a hand, mailed, and fierce with strain,

Gropes for our throats, though half a world away.

Mad schemes of empire, hatched in a despot's brain,

Burn, starve, drown, raven, conquer and kill today.

The call, "To arms! to arms!" rings through the earth.

Again, — "Fight for yourselves, your altars arid your fires:"

Stand for the land where freedom saw its birth;

Strike swift and sure for the Home of Your Dear Desires;

And for other Peoples and Lands, prostrate and spent, —

Desolate, plundered, and worn;

Ravished, and rent.

"And there was ivar in heaven" Ah! there you have the key!

That primal fight against revenge, ambition, and jealousy —

For the very Gods must arm themselves in defense of the right

To Be;

To form, to build, to love, to give, to grow in amity.

'Tis the old, old battle for right that began in the courts above,

And the old, old enemy, my son,

That throws us the gage of his glove.

Then go, and God go with thee, ye hosts for liberty.

We are building our fires of sacrifice with our nearest and bravest

and best.

290 IMPROVEMENT ERA

And God give light to those neutral lands who should our com-

rades be,

That they spring to the aid of their Sister States who dare to be

brave for the rest.

Who dare to stand forth for Democracy,

And this its supremest test.

There is a plan, and we a part; there is a Destiny ;

There are laws to live and lives to give to make the whole world

free.

Christ gave Himself; God gave his Son; we, too, must offer all

Upon the sum of our beliefs, and by them stand or fall.

So, day by day, and day by day, for our own and other lands

Must give of the wealth of farms and mills, of hearts, and souls,

and hands,

Give free, O God, of our lovely boys

As exigence demands!

There is no doubt of the outcome, for God has told us this,

That Right shall triumph, and Truth prevail to the bounds of

the utmost sea.

But what we must suffer in blood and tears, must do and dare

for this,

Must yield of the best of our priceless gifts, is not given to you

or me.

Hush, O my soul! no time for tears, no mood for a weak re-

pining;

We will "do our bit" through the storms and years, and trust the

sun for its shining.

"Who loses his life for my name's sake shall find it," — the clarion

call

From our Father in heaven to his children on earth. — We answer

with our all.

Shoulder to shoulder, step to step, and this our battle cry:

"The right to freedom for ourselves,

And the world, that it shall not die."

Sarah E. Hawley Pearson

Ogden, Utah

Copyright, Underwood & Underwood, New York

An official despatch from France announces that the Turks, before sur-

rendering Jerusalem to the British, carried off the famous treasures of the