Over Here Part 4

His mother's eyes are saddened, and her cheeks are stained with tears, And I'm facing now the struggle that I've dreaded through the years; For the boy that was our baby has been changed into a man.

He's enlisted in the army as a true American.

He held her for a moment in his arms before he spoke, And I watched him as he kissed her, and it seemed to me I'd choke, For I knew just what was coming, and I knew just what he'd done!

'Another little mother had a soldier for a son.

When we'd pulled ourselves together, and the first quick tears had dried, We could see his eyes were blazing with the fire of manly pride; We could see his head was higher than it ever was before, For we had a man to cherish, and our baby was no more.

Oh, I don't know how to say it! With the sorrow comes the joy That there isn't any coward in the make-up of our boy.

And with pride our hearts are swelling, though with grief they're also hit, For the boy that was our baby has stepped forth to do his bit,

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, G.o.d, 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 l.u.s.t 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, G.o.d, 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 pa.s.ser-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."

It seems to me I've never tried To do so much about the place, Nor been so slow to come inside, But since I've got the Flag to face, Each night when I come home to rest I feel that I must look up there And say: "Old Flag, I've done my best, To-day I've tried to do my share."

And sometimes, just to catch the breeze, I stop my work, and o'er the trees Old Glory fairly shouts my way: "You're shirking far too much to-day!"

The help have caught the spirit, too; The hired man takes off his cap Before the old red, white and blue, Then to the horses says: "Giddap!"

And starting bravely to the field He tells the milkmaid by the door: "We're going to make these acres yield More than they've ever done before."

She smiles to hear his gallant brag, Then drops a curtsey to the Flag, And in her eyes there seems to shine A patriotism that is fine.

'We've raised a flagpole on the farm And flung Old Glory to the sky, We're far removed from war's alarm, But courage here is running high.

We're doing things we never dreamed We'd ever find the time to do; Deeds that impossible once seemed Each morning now we hurry through.

The Flag now waves above our toil And sheds its glory on the soil, And boy and man look up to it As if to say: "I'll do my bit!"

The Mother on the Sidewalk

The mother on the sidewalk as the troops are marching by Is the mother of Old Glory that is waving in the sky.

Men have fought to keep it splendid, men have died to keep it bright, But that flag was born of woman and her sufferings day and night; 'Tis her sacrifice has made it, and once more we ought to pray For the brave and loyal mother of the boy that goes away.

There are days of grief before her, there are hours that she will weep, There are nights of anxious waiting when her fear will banish sleep; She has heard her country calling and has risen to the test, And has placed upon the altar of the nation's need, her best.

And no man shall ever surfer in the turmoil of the fray The anguish of the mother of the boy who goes away.

You may boast men's deeds of glory, you may tell their courage great, But to die is easier service than alone to sit and wait, And I hail the little mother, with the tear-stained face and grave Who has given the Flag a soldier--she's the bravest of the brave.

And that banner we are proud of, with its red and blue and white Is a lasting tribute holy to all mothers' love of right.

The Big Deeds

We are done with little thinking and we're done with little deeds, We are done with petty conduct and we're done with narrow creeds; We have grown to men and women, and we've n.o.ble work to do, And to-day we are a people with a larger point of view.

In a big way we must labor, if our Flag shall always fly.

In a big way some must suffer, in a big way some must die.

There must be no little dreaming in the visions that we see, There must be no selfish planning in the joys that are to be; 'We have set our faces eastwards to the rising of the sun That shall light a better nation, and there's big work to be done.

And the petty souls and narrow, seeking only selfish gain, Shall be vanquished by the toilers big enough to suffer pain.

It's a big task we have taken; 'tis for others we must fight.

We must see our duty clearly in a white and shining light; We must quit our little circles where we've moved in little ways, And work, as men and women, for the bigger, better days.

We must quit our selfish thinking and our narrow views and creeds.

And as people, big and splendid, we must do the bigger deeds.