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forgotten all the depth and beauty?And lofty purport of that old true word?Deplaced by pleasure--that old good word DUTY.?Now by its meaning is the whole world stirred.?These men died for it; for it, now, we give,?And sacrifice, and serve, and toil, and live.?From out our hearts had gone a high devotion?For anything. It took a mighty wrath -?Against great evil to wake strong emotion,?And put us back upon the righteous path.?It took a mingled stream of tears and blood?To cut the channel through to Brotherhood.
That word meant nothing on our lips in peace:?We had despoiled it by our castes and classes.?But when this savage carnage finds surcease?A new ideal will unite the masses.?And there shall be True Brotherhood with men -?The Christly Spirit stirring earth again.
For this our men have suffered, fought, and died.?And we who can but dimly see the end?Are guarded by their spirits glorified,?Who help us on our way, while they ascend.?They are not dead--they are not dead, I say,?These men whose graves we decorate to-day.
America and France walk hand in hand;?As one, their hearts beat through the coming years:?One is the aim and purpose of each land,?Baptized with holy water of their tears.?To-day they worship with one faith, and know?Grief's first Communion in God's House of Woe.
Great Liberty, the Goddess at our gates,?And great Jeanne d'Arc, are fused into one soul:?A host of Angels on that soul awaits?To lead it up to triumph at the goal.?Along the path of Victory they tread,?Moves the majestic cortege of our dead.
Flowers of France in the Spring,?Your growth is a beautiful thing;?But give us your fragrance and bloom -?Yea, give us your lives in truth,
Give us your sweetness and grace?To brighten the resting-place?Of the flower of manhood and youth,?Gone into the dust of the tomb.
OUR ATLAS
Not Atlas, with his shoulders bent beneath the weighty world, Bore such a burden as this man, on whom the Gods have hurled The evils of old festering lands--yea, hurled them in their might And left him standing all alone, to set the wrong things right.
It is the way the Fates have done since first Time's race began! They open up Pandora's box before some chosen man;?And then, aloof, they wait and watch, to see if he will find And wake the slumbering God that dwells in every mortal's mind.
Erect, our modern Atlas stands, with brave uplifted head,?And there is courage in his eyes, if in his heart be dread. Not dread of foes, but dread of friends, who may not pull together, To bring the lurching ship of State safe through the stormy weather.
Oh, never were there wilder waves or more stupendous seas,?Or rougher rocks or bleaker winds, or darker days than these. Not Washington, not Lincoln knew so grave an hour of Time?As he who now stands face to face with War's world-shaking crime.
His brain is clear, his soul is brave, his heart is just and right, He asks no honours of the earth, but favour in God's sight; His aim is not to wear a crown or win imperial power,?But to use wisely for the race life's terrible great hour.
O Liberty, who lights the world with rays that come from God, Shine on Columbia's troubled track, and make it bright and broad; Shine on each heart, and give it strength to meet its pains and losses,?And give supernal strength to one who bears the whole world's crosses;?Take from his thought the fear of friends who may not pull together, And bring the glorious ship of State safe through wild waves and weather.
CAMP FOLLOWERS
In the old wars of the world there were camp followers,?Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire,?Women of weak wills and strong desire.?And, like the poison ivy in the woods?That winds itself about tall virile trees?Until it smothers them, so these?Ruined the bodies and the souls of men.?More evil were they than Red War itself,?Or Pestilence, or Famine. Now in this war -?This last most awful carnage of the world -?All the old wickedness exists as then:
But as a foul stream from a festering fen?Is met and scattered by a mountain brook?Leaping along its beautiful, bright course,?So now the force?Of these new Followers of the camp has come?Straight from God's Source?To cleanse the world and cleanse the minds of men.?Good women, of great courage and large hearts,?Women whose slogan is self-sacrifice,?Willing to pay the price?God asks of pioneers, now play their parts?In this stupendous drama of the age?As Followers of the Camps.
They come in the name of God our Father,?They come in the name of Christ our Brother,?They come in the name of All Humanity,?To give their gold, their labour, and their love?To help the suffering souls in this war-riddled earth,?The New Women of the Race--?The New Camp Followers -?The Centuries shall do honour to their names.
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