PS 3513 .P298 C8 1919 Copy 1 This Crimson Flower ^D- Y IN FLANDERS FIELDS AN ANSWER /•-'O \l' and OTHER VERSE By C. B. GALBREATH V 8* m THIS CRIMSON FLOWER IN FLANDERS FIELDS An Anszver and Other Verse BY C. B. GALBREATH STONEMAN PRESS Columbus, O. December, 1919. Copyrighted by \ C. B. GALBREATH 1919 DtC 27 1919 C1A580369 n^o [ CONTE NTS PAGE This Crimson Flower 5 In Flanders Fields 6 In Flanders Fields — An Answer 7 In Flanders Field — Victores Requiescunt 8 In Picardy 9 The Wounds of War 9 They Go To End War 10 Arise, America 12 In the Glory of Their Years 13 Private Frederick Bunn 15 Nasturtiums 30 Jerusalem 32 United As Never Before 33 Our Stars 34 Arise, Ye Dead 36 Through London Town 38 Autumn Leaves 42 Welcome to Our Ace of Aces 43 Welcome to Twelfth Regiment of Engineers.. 45 Converted 46 Morning Glories - 48 Fragrance of Apple Bloom 49 Prepare for the Harvest 51 To a Robin 53 "Life-Everlasting" 55 Autumn Afternoon.... 56 Echo Vale 58 The Violet 59 [3] NOTE SOME of the verse on the following pages first appeared in print in The Ohio Educa- tional Monthly, The Columbus Citizen, The Columbus Evening Dispatch, The Ohio State Journal, The St. Louis Globe Democrat, TTie St. Louis Republic and the Kit Kat, a magazine pub- lished by the Kit Kat Club of Columbus, Ohio. The answer to Lieut. Col. McCrae's "In Flanders Fields" has been copied by newspapers and other publications in every section of the United States and Canada. The literary editor of the New York Times said in November, 1918, that it was the best known of all "answers." A. W. Perry and Sons, Sedalia, Mo., have published it with music by Mrs. M. Laughlin, of Kansas City, Mo. The two poems have recently been brought out by the John Church Company, Cincinnati, New York and London, with music by the well known composer. Mentor Crosse. "They Go to End War" has been published by The Willis Music Company, of Cincinnati, with music by A. J. Gantvoort, director of the College of Music in that city. "Prepare for the Harvest," with music by A. R. Martin, was published in "Convention Carols:' 1880. [4] THIS CRIMSON FLOWER THE POPPY This crimson flower shall ever tell Of those who triumphed as they fell, Who sleep at peace all dreamlessly; This flower shall fit memento be For those whose days were ended well. To lowly mansions where they dwell Love brings the rose and immortelle. But bears away o'er land and sea This crimson flower. The cheers of victors over-swell The martial dirge and tolling bell, While blows their flower, who kept us free; Nor bloom from blest Elysian lea Shall match, in sweet Lethean spell. This crimson flower! [5] IN FLANDERS FIELDS BY LIEUT.-COL. JOHN McCRAE In Flanders fields the poppies blow Bettpeen the crosses, roiv on rorv. That mark our place; and in the s^]j The larks, still hravel}) singing, fi^. Scarce heard amid the guns foeioD?. We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow. Loved and were loved; and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe! To you, from failing hands, we throw The torch. Be yours to hold it high! If ye break faith with us who die. We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. — London Punch, NOTE. A manuscript copy of the above has "grow" at the end of the first as well as at the end of next to the last line. [6] IN FLANDERS FIELDS AN ANSWER In Flanders fields the cannon boom And fitful fiashes light the gloom. While up above, like eagles, fly The fierce destroyers of the sky; With stains the earth wherein you lie Is redder than the poppy bloom. In Flanders fields. Sleep on, ye brave. The shrieking shell, The quaking trench, the starded yell. The fury of the battle hell Shall wake you not; for all is well. Sleep peacefully; for all is well. Your flcmiing torch aloft we bear. With burning heart an oath we swear To keep the faith, to fight it through To crush the foe or sleep with you In Flanders fields. February 10, 1918. [7] IN FLANDERS FIELDS VICTORES REQUIESCUNT In Flanders fields the winds are low. On high the shadowy scud clouds go, While gently falls the silent snow; And crosses stretch their arms of white Above a welcome robe of light In Flanders fields. The war-worn world has found release. And in this chaste and hallowed bed Serenely sleep the martyred dead. While falls the benison of peace In Flanders fields. Sleep, victors, sleep when falls the snow. When spring returns, when poppies blow; Our legions heard your mute appeal. They kept the faith through fire and steeU And when the battle flags were furled Your torch illumined all the world From Flanders fields. November 27, 1918. [8] IN PICARDY In Picardy the mists of dawn Were heavy as the veil of night,* And in their folds they hid from sight The foe in silence sweeping on. When thunder-struck, their trenches gone, The British hosts were forced to flight. In Picardy the mists of dawn Were heavy as the veil of night. The foe, by lure of triumph drawn. Poured forth the flower of his might And won a fateful Pyrrhic light. The Kaiser learned for him anon In Picardy the mists of dawn Were heavy as the veil of night. THE WOUNDS OF WAR The wounds of war are slow to heal. Though fires of battle burn no more Nor cannon ope with thunder peal The wounds of war. Wild vines and flowers clamber o'er TTie shards of shell and rusting steel And Nature would her sway restore. But poppies set a crimson seal Round shell pit marge, by trenches hoar.f And long the riven earth shall feel The wounds of war. *A dense fog contributed much to the initial success of the Germans in their great March offensive, 1918. ■fA soldier who served two summers in northern France Bays : "The red poppy was everywhere, but its bloom was especially rich around old sheel holes and along abandoned trenches." [91 THEY GO TO END WAR With head erect and elastic step - Our soldiers are marching by; With heart athrob to a great intent And spirit elate and high, For they go to fight for the end of war And the reign of peace forevermore. TTiey seek not the battle's wreck and spoil Or an autocratic state; They seek not a sister nation's harm And they sing not the song of hate, For they go to fight for the end of war And the reign of peace forevermore. TTiey strike for imperiled Liberty And her violated shrine; They strike for oppressed humanity And a cause that is divine. For they go to fight for the end of war And the reign of peace forevermore. They go to the rescue of valiant France, In the spirit of Lafayette; And large is their debt to a bleeding world, A debt that they will not forget. For they go to fight for the end of war And the reign of peace forevermore. [10] On the reeking front of the blazing field They shall not battle in vain; They cannot fail in a righteous cause, Tliough they fall with the mangled slain. For they go to fight for the end of war And the reign of peace forevermore. A grateful world will applaud their deeds. With paeans of praise and cheers; And the god of battle will wake no more Through the tranquil march of the years; They will win the fight for the end of war And the reign of i>eace forevermore. December, 1917. [11] ARISE. AMERICA Arise, America, arise! The Foe his desperate challenge flings. With deadly strife the welkin rings. The world in fateful balance swings. Arise, America, arise And smite Oppression till it dies. Arise, America, arise! In ruins are the shrines of Worth, A monstrous Thing is given birth And Murder stalks one-half the earth. Arise, America, arise ! And bruise the Reptile till it dies. Arise, America, arise ! And thrust aside this evil Chance; With cannon, plane and rifle-lance. Strike for the Cause and bleeding France. Arise, America, advance With all who fight for gallant France. Arise, America, arise! And break the arm of brutal might. And rend this ebon veil of night. And flood the world again with light. Arise, America, arise ! And strike for Truth that never dies. March 31, 1918. [12] IN THE GLORY OF THEIR YEARS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF SERGEANT E. GRAY SWINGLE* At the zenith of the summer. Ere the reaper's work was done. Land and sea afar they traversed Toward the rising of the sun; And our war afflicted aUies Welcomed them with grateful cheers. As they marched to Armageddon, f In the glory of their years. In the pride of knightly manhood. In the bloom of youth and might. Freedom's brawny, lithe crusaders Went to battle for the right. Fire and steel and cannon's clamor Shook them not with craven fears. As they fought at Armageddon, In the glory of their years. •Sergeant E. Gray Swingle, of Newark, Ohio, Company B. Sixth Regiment, U. S. Engineers, was fatally wounded on the Western Front in the great German offensive, on the night of March 27, 1918, while leading a patrol in "no man's land." On the morning of the following day, while still under the guns of the enemy, with life ebbing rapidly away as he lay on the ground, he signaled back, by waving his hand, to British officers, information of great value. Soon afterward he ceased to move. For this heroism, even unto death, he was awarded the distinguished service cross. Much credit was given by British officers to the American Engineers, who, in this drive as at Cambrai in November of the previous year, "dropped their shovels and picks, grasped their guns and helped to stay the on-coming foe." tArmajreddon — The last great battle of the world, in which the righteous shall overthrow the powers of darkness. (Rev- elations, 16:12-16). The World War and sometimes the German offensive which began March 21, 1918, have been referred to as "Armageddon." [13] And the Briton praised their valor When the fateful storm was high. When the charging legions thundered And the squadrons swept the sky. In the fury of the tempest Stood our dauntless engineers, — Thus they fought at Armageddon, In the glory of their years. Some are numbered with the missing; Though their gallcuit strife is o'er. In the nation's heart and annals. They will live forevermore. Love and pride assuage our sorrow And repress the welling tears. For they fell at Armageddon, In the glory of their years. [14] PRIVATE FREDERICK BUNN I His father died in years agone; He was his mother's only son ; A comely youth, well built and tall. Was genial Frederick Bunn.* In sterling traits he differed not From other lads with slight alloy. And every neighborhood has known Just such a worthy boy. II Far, far away, beyond the sea there rose A threatening cloud with gathered wrath in store, TTie world from dreams of peace and sweet repose Was rudely wakened by the bolts of war. The cloud grew darker as it loomed more vast And cast its shadow o'er our tranquil sky; But Statecraft sought to stem the rising blast, [by. While Faith prayed that this cup might pass us Then burst the storm, and every day that dawned Saw Mars enthroned amid the martial din; Throughout the world a mighty chasm yawned. And knights by millions rose to close it in ! *See note at close of this tribute. [15] Ill The call of country stirred the soul And set its latent fires aglow, While Peace put on the mail of War And marched to meet the foe. He did not shirk, he did not quail. Although his answer to the call Meant that a mother, e'en as he. Had heard and given all. Among the volunteer Marines, He went — this modest patriot son, For every inch American Was Private Frederick Bunn. IV Over the sea, over the sea. Soldier, the bugle is calling for thee. The Allied comrades have waited long; They will welcome thee with a stirring song, Over the sea, over the sea! Up in the sky, up in the sky. Soldier, the eagles of Liberty fly; They lead in the way thy legions shall go To shatter the might of the oncoming foe; Up in the sky, up in the sky ! [16] Over the plain, over the plain. Where falleth the shower of crimson rain. Where the shells puff clouds into daylight fair And the night gloweth wan 'neath the ghostly flare; Over the plain, over the plain ! True to the call, true to the call. This is the greatest adventure of all, — To bring to the altars that now arise A share of redeeming sacrifice; True to the call, true to the call ! Over the sea, over the sea. That shall bring thee back to the Land of the Free Or bear thee on by the Vale of Distress To the shores of a sweet Forget fulness. Over the sea, over the sea! V Beneath a dark and wintry sky. With snow-clad plains of broad expanse. The coming soldiers could not hope To find a sunny Fremce. But cheers of gratitude arise From city street and village lane To warm responsive hearts that soon Forget the mire and rain. [17] Now comes the magic-working Spring With all her resurrecting powers And strews across the waste of War A wilderness of flowers. A cloudness morn, a sunny France, A respite for a fleeting day. Call forth a message of the heart To one now far away: VI "The flowers of spring are here, mother, In the fields and by the way; Messages they bring of cheer, mother. And my heart is glad today. The balmy breeze on wings of fragrance Bears me back to long ago. And the cannon in the distance Seems to mutter faint and low. "The well remembered hours, mother, Come as in a blessed dream. When we gathered early flowers, mother. In the meadow by the stream ; And the skies that bent above us Were so tranquil, deep and blue; Tenderly I view these blossoms And I long for home and you." [18] VII The days of war are anxious days; Each soldier when he fares away, Is followed by the hopes and fears Of those who wait and pray. Think of some lad that you have known, Scarce noticed in the days of yore. The center of concern in arms Upon a foreign shore; Then think of millions in the camps And other millions over there. And measure, if you can, in weight The mountian load of care. That burdens down a world at war On trembling earth and ocean foam; The blow that strikes the battle line Will reach the brave at home. The soldier in a distant land. Mid cheering scenes and dangers grave, Thinks of the dread of one at home And writes her to be brave: "Mother, be brave; It is well with me ; have never a fear. And feel it is best that your boy is here. [19] Think what the mothers of France have come through. The mothers of England and Germany too; The dread of all mothers, their grief and their pain. We fight that they never may know it again. At the call of the helpless our ranks shall be strong And the prayer of all mothers be answered ere long. Mother, be brave." IX All eyes are on the Western Front; Where comes the foe in pride of might. Prodigious grown by barter with The Judas Muscovite. The shock of Armageddon wakes An Allied world to dread amaze; The British yield in Picardy, — Ah, those were anxious days. They yield, but hold their wavering line; The ghastly wreckage in their wake Makes this the first of reeking fields; They bend but do not break. But who shall stay from victory The mighty flood now rolling on? What pMDwer shall break the gathering gloom With streaks of coming dawn? [20] X A land of level tracts and gentle slopes, Of streams and meadows green and waving grain. Where nature crowns the peasant's toil and hopes — A fruitful land, the valley of the Aisne; And farther south in undulating plain The little city all the world now knows. The birthplace of the gifted La Fontaine, But half forgotten till invaders rose And smote the walls by which the Marne serenely flows. Chateau-Thierry ! war-shattered from the North When came the foe with desolating stride And Allied nations pujured their legions forth To stay the Kaiser at his crest of pride. His vulture squadrons rained destruction wide While guns by thousands struck the thunder stroke ; On rolled in ruthless might the Teuton tide In waves of gray amid the mist and smoke — On surged the flood against a living wall — and broke ; A living wall of knights in khaki clad. And helmeted without a star or plume Or epaulette or bar, but proudly glad To stand for country in the grime and gloom. While shook the earth with an incessant boom To which the thunder were an echo; then, [211 As open seemed to swing the gates of doom. The foe in desperation hurled his men. Who fought like baffled gods, and charged, and charged again; But charged in vain; the shattered ranks recede Amid confusion dire and wild uproar. At every trench the Allied legions bleed; And now in turn they strike, and swarming o'er The slippery top, sweep everything before; Though fiercely still the fires of carnage burn, Fate strikes the hour, — and on his throne no more Shall Might the claim of Mercy scoff and spurn; Again behold the world with tide of battle turn. Chateau-Thierry! for coming range of time On history's page a name the world shall view Pivotal, as immortal and sublime As Marathon or Tours or Waterloo. Among the brave who bore their standards through The rain of death, were some who bore the scars Of other fields where bolts as blasting flew. Some came from shores beyond the sunset bars And sealed their faith with blood beneath the stripes and stars. The storm of battle echoes here no more. Nor fans the trenches to a lurid glow; Nor fitful flash nor cannon's sullen roar [22] Disturbs the shadows of the old chateau Where sleep again the ghosts of long ago, Roused by the earthquake from their slumbers deep Of centuries, yon ruined arch below; But younger spirits, loth as yet to sleep. Stand guard upon the hill and phantom vigils keep. XI With what a thrill we heard the news. Through darkness saw a cheering ray; Our brave Marines were in the lines That held the foe at bay. But with relief and joy and pride The notes of doubt and sadness blend; "Who fell?" — the question on the lip Of lover, parent, friend. And was he there? Ah, yes, and lives; To perish here was not his fate; A letter came from him at last That bore a later date. As tides that earthquakes roll to sea Will soon return to smite the shore. So comes again the foe to charge As fiercely as before. [23] XII The golden grain near old Sois:ons In fields for centuries has grown And ripened in the sun and rain; Those drops that left a crimson stain Enriched the earth where seed was sown. The peasant girls and birds have flown; The noxious winds have rudely blown And searched with hidden shafts of pain The golden grain. On rigid wing the eagles drone; The cannon speaks in thunder tone And shrieks the shell a weird refrain; The Harvester in ranks of slain Has reaped and garnered as his own The golden grain! XIII The days of July pass away. Those history making days, With victories for Foch and Haig, And Yankees winning praise. Hurrah for Pershing and his men! The generals and doughboys too, For all who blazed for liberty An open pathway through. [24] XIV We cheer the men who lead In camp or field of action dire. Whose lofty bearing doth inspire The hosts as one to face the fire And steel and storm; at whose command The tide is turned on sea and land — Cheers for the men who lead. The private soldiers cheer; WTio wrought and fought with courage fine And charged the bristling battle line; For them a wreath of laurel twine. Who went with faith and purpose high In freedom's cause to win or die; The private soldiers cheer. The man who leads we cheer; The private soldier too; For country on a foreign shore They bore the brunt and scourge of war That p>eace might reign forevermore ; The leader hath his bars and stars And both have had the moil and scars; The leader cheer, it is his due. And cheer, a little louder cheer The private soldier too. [25] XV The summer days are measured long From streaks of dawn to sunset rays; But in the court of Mirth and Joy How short are summer days. To her who waits word from her son. What were the cheers and stirring song? Her thoughts and dreams are of the war; To her all days are long. TTie summer time at length is gone; Along the woods the tints appear Which tell, with breezes light and cool, That autumn days are here. The elms have doffed their robes of gold. The wind is sighing at the eaves. The gusts have scattered on the waste November's withered leaves. Hark! breaks the joy of clanging bells, And whistles shriek, the war is won; The surging throngs shout "Victory!" But where is Frederick Bunn? A missing soldier will not count WTiere millions from the battle go, [26] When peace rings from the Christmas bells And robes the earth with snow. No word comes from the prison camp Or hospital or river red; The casual list bears not his name As missing or as dead. Perhaps in some volcanic charge This youth was smitten blind; Perhaps, shocked by a monstrous shell. He reeled and lost his mind. Perhaps the foe his prison guards. Forbids that he should write a line; Perhaps — but all surmise is vain — The silence gives no sign. The New Year comes; a month drags by; The south wind harbingers the spring; The quest at last is at an end. The wires this message bring: XVI "Your son is dead, we regret to tell; It was thought that you had known. With his face to the foe he bravely fell In a wheat field near Soissons." [27] XVII Bravely beautiful is Spring, Life and love with courage roam. Bravely beautiful is Spring When she brings the soldiers home. Sadly beautiful is Spring When her cheek the rain drops lave; For her tears no word can bring From the "unreturning brave." XVIII The drum and fife are passing by; A remnant leads the grand review Who wore, as still they wear, the blue And kept Old Glory in the sky. Behind the Old Guard come the men With helmets grim and bristling steel. Elate and fit from head to heel. Our young crusaders home again. I watch them pass and I would fain Believe the past an evil dream And see beneath some helmet beam His genial face; I look in vain! [28] He will not come to greet me here; Though bands their stirring numbers play, My thoughts are with him far away; I sigh and half forget to cheer. But when I feel his spirit near, I sway with music of the band, And I applaud with voice and hand As would my friend if he were here. ♦Private Frederick J. Bunn volunteered from Columbus, Ohio, in the Ninety-seventh Company, Sixth Regiment, U. S. Marines. He left the United States late in 1917, was gassed the following May, recovered and continued in ac- tive service until the time of his death. At the battle of Soissons, while advancing through a field of uncut wheat, July 19, 1918, he was mortally wounded by a high explosive shell. The record of his army life is the connecting thread of the foregoing "tribute," which was read at the memorial service in honor of his memory in Hopewell Church near Groveport, Ohio, August 10, 1919. Chateau Thierry and Soissons will, for all time, be joined with the fame of the American Marines. [29] NASTURTIUMS I think sometimes of a soldier lad And a flower with a leaf like a lily pad But smaller; a-nod in the breezes pure Like a lily pad in miniature. When Summer gathers her golden sheaves, From the lowly clusters of rotate leaves Rise the drooping buds on their stemlets slight, And a riot of color unfolds to the light; A wealth of the tints of the citrus fruit And markings that speak from throats that are mute. From a creamy shade to the darker, down Through yellow and gold and pink and brovsTi. But why should I link the soldier lad And the flower with a leaf like the lily pad? For he is sturdy and lithe and tall And by shifting breezes is swayed not at all. I will tell you why. On a July night When trains were speeding in secret flight To bear our lads to the ocean shore To answer their country's call to war, I gathered a handful of choicest bloom And wended my way through the midnight gloom [30] To the railway station, lonely and dim. Where the train pulled in with the warriors grim. And the soldier lad — he met me there. And he talked awhile with the old-time air. And he took this colorful gift of mine With a smile as he said,"Thank'e dad; that's fine." A wave of the hand from the moving train As it thundered into the night again; Into darkness plunged with a shriek and a roar And echoed back, "We are off for the war." When for me the war is a tale that is told. Still from lily pad leaflets the flowers of gold Will speak, as they ope to the warm sunshine, In a voice that I know, "Thank'e dad; that's fine." [31] JERUSALEM Out of the deep, dark cloud uf war That mantles the closing year, A light is breaking athwart the East — A carol of hop>e we hear. Chorus : Over the Holy Sepulcher, Over the sainted graves. Over the walls of Jerusalem The banner of freedom waves. Here is the end of the last crusade. The dawn of a better day; The night of the reign of the cruel Turk Is passing forever away. Soon on the battle's red front no more Shall the sullen cannon boom. While through the valley again as of yore The lilies of peace shall bloom. December 31. 1917. [32] UNITED AS NEVER BEFORE From the lakes to the gulf, from the river that binds The North and the South forever as one. From the shores of Maine to the Golden Gate Where the day burns out in the setting sun; From Alaska's peaks and our isles of the main Where the palm trees wave and the billows roar, A nation exults in a mighty refrain — "United as never before." The flag is out and our spirits are high. The eye is agleam and the heart is athrill. For the khaki-clad boys are marching by To the call of the bugle, clear and shrill. From the Lake of the Woods to the Florida Keys They sing, as they go to the great World War, In a chorus that swells on the summer breeze — "United as never before." Hurrah for the boys in the olive drab; The torch that they follow across the sea Will blaze anew with a brighter flame — The flame of a world-wide liberty. And hurrah and hurrah for the boys in blue That united we fight, if we needs must war; In their footsteps we follow as loyal and true, "United as never before." May 30, 1918. [33] OUR STARS* On our quiet village church, Fades the light from sunset bars; Overhead the tranquil night Spreads her canopy of stars. In this humble, sacred fane. With the hands of faith and love. Here we consecrate our flag With its stars like those above; Stars whose living counterparts, On the rounds of space and time. For their country's spotless cause Mount to thought and deed sublime. Emblem of the staunch and brave. Of the pure and tried and true, Service banner bordered red. Field of white and stars of blue. Can it be? Shore time ago Here they played. Yon dusty street Felt the impress of their hands And their tanned and dimpled feet. Now to soldiers grown, they march With the stars and stripes unfurled. Heroes, knights of liberty To a torn and bleeding world. at*^r/erf^S-lSusf S^^^ «- ^" '^^ M- E. church [34] In the years, long, long ago, With the freeman's hope and will. Our forefathers lit the fires On the crest of Bunker Hill. And our gallant boys in blue. In the service that they gave. Turned the tide at Gettysburg, Broke the shackles of the slave. Now our boys in olive drab. Forest green and navy blue. Grapple the relentless foe. Pierce his serried columns through; And the guerdon that they bear. Grievous wounds of earth to bind. Is a triumph that shall bring Liberty to all mankind. Glorious day, when war shall end And the cannon's roar shall cease; When the squadrons leave the sky One vast panoply of peace. Fears and tears will change to cheers. In this humble village fane. When the right and God prevail And our stars come back again. August, 1918. [35] "ARISE, YE DEAD" * "Arise, for home arise." Thus spake a vahant son of France, And led, defying death and chance, But failed to stay the foe's advance. Arise, for home arise." 'Arise, for France arise." And at the thought of native land Each soldier smote with desperate hand. But scarcely brought the foe to stand. "Arise, for France arise." Arise, for God arise." Thus spake a soldier priest. Each gun Blazed from the ramparts of Verdun; The field was swept— it was not won.' "Arise, for God arise." "Arise, ye dead, arise." Thus spake a poilu, and the cry From rank to rank was raised so high It shook the earth and rent the sky. "Arise, ye dead, arise." wSer'nuranty^'Te wflff ^^'^ ''^ ^" '""''«»* reported by "It is said thkt in The mon'°"nP°I!'^^"*' «« f°"«w8 : wounded Frenchman caHed ntdlv '"' A v" ^°'"" ^l ^/f^"" * appeal galvanized into sunremp l^;- ^"'^-^^ ^^^^^ H« shattered comrades I atprt?! resistance his wounded and French army? and the r%„,^^ message spread through the moment wh^A tt selmed''l™toriousr""''' "^' '"^^'^ «* *»>« [36] The mighty dead arose; Back reeled invading armies vast. For martyr spirits of the past Rode on the withering battle blast — The mighty dead arose! The dead, invulnerable. Above the cannon's wild uproar Fought as they never fought before And turned the gory tide of war. The dead, invincible! [37] THROUGH LONDON TOWN DEDICATED TO THE TWELFTH REGIMENT OF RAILWAY ENGINEERS * A captive city silent stood Beside the river shore. While through her streets in splendor passed William the Conqueror. His knights with sword and shield and spear On armored steeds rode down; They proudly bore their burnished mail And marched through London Town. The centuries moved slowly by. With years of war and peace; They saw the world's metropolis In power and fame increase. And never echoed through her streets The tread of foeman's heel. Nor flashed from out her misty light The glint of foreign steel; Until there burst a fateful storm With lightnings red and dire. When Attila resurgent came And set the world on lire. thr7u''^\'^So';'Au^u!t"ir'917 '\ ^'"^ /^"f-^". troops that had marched thro,r^h+h» ^P^ ?°''^'^'J «"»«'' t'-ooPs William the ct^e^r'^orfnS^o'e^e. t/l ^^e^^s t^foS^^^^^^ "' [38] The city poured her legions forth. The tide of wrath to turn; She saw her brave defenders go. Their shattered ranks return. A shadow on the city fell. With pain and grief oppressed; And weary eyes sought wistfully A sign from out the West; When lo ! a thrilling murmur ran, — "They come, the men of might. To join our ranks, to smite the foe And set the world aright." A foreign flag and foreign arms And soldiers lithe and brown Through open gates and open hearts Marched into London Town; While from the tower above the bridge That spans the river's tide. The union jack and stars and stripes Were floating side by side. A mighty multitude acclaimed And shook the walls with cheers; And some their greetings shouted forth And some were touched to tears. Uncovered stood the men of state Who hold a nation's helm. While to the passing pageant bow«d The ruler of the realm. [39] And in those soldier ranks were lads Of many racial strains; The Saxon, Norse and Celt were there. Blent in their Yankee veins. And some had ancestors who balked A British monarch's will With fiery speech at Faneuil Hall Or fought at Bunker Hill. Forgotten was the ancient feud. The strife of vanished years; They viewed the nation's gratitude With joy akin to tears; And this their silent message was: "Fciint not, though foes assail; Our brothers o'er the sea arise; They come; they will not fail. "They know your cause and quarrel just. They heed your fervent prayers ; The millions of America Have made your battle theirs. They vow the tyrant's rule shall bind The states of earth no more. That Kaiser William shall not be William the conqueror." Though this historic march is past, The heralds still advance And pitch their camps on many a field Of desolated France. [40] On evenings round their frugal fires Their varied tales they tell. Of voyage fair and weary march And trench and bursting shell; Of terraced slopes and wooded hills And plains where poppies grow. Of rivers rushing from their steeps Or winding calm and slow; Of ruined towns, cathedrals wrecked, And cities doomed to fall ; And oft they modestly rehearse This story dear to all : "How glad we were for one brief day To let brave England know The Yankee lads were on the way To help her crush the foe; Though ours may be a humble part. While others win renown. Of freedom's host we led the van And marched through London Town." 1918. [41 AUTUMN LEAVES The genial sunlight melts on the hills The breath of the morning white and cold; By the wayside bend sprays of aster bloom And the forest turns to russet and gold. A cheery whistle the silence breaks— The silence deep of the autumn morn There's a rustle of fodder— a song afield— There are glowing heaps of the yellow corn. On the wooded slopes the tulip trees Have raised their banners of amber light. While leaves flit out from the arching elms' Like goldfinch coveys in downward flight. The sugar maple in orange arrayed With the aspen blends in a milder hue. And a golden glory pervades the earth ' To the hills that fade into opal and blue. And I say, as I look to the skies above ^ And the yellow wealth of the year's increase. A goodly land and a goodly time The fruitful days of a golden peace." When lo! at my feet the gum tree throws A leaf like the reeking point of a lance. And the sumac burns on the hill blood-red Like the poppy bloom in the fields of France! October, 1918. [42] WELCOME TO OUR ACE OF ACES* Our squadrons no more Sail into the fight, And our eagles of war Turn homeward their flight. They have won in the sky New laurels of glory; Their triumphs on high Will live ever in story. With the joy of our hearts Aglow in our faces. We are welcoming home Our own ace of aces. When the sky raiding foe. Through the rack and the gloom. Shook the cities below With the missiles of doom. Up our fleet eagle wheeled And the raiding plane shattered, — On a shell pitted field Its fragments were scattered. With the pride of our souls Aglow in our faces. We are welcoming home Our own ace of aces. •Captain Edward V. Rickenbacker, of Columbus, Ohio. [43] Hurrah for our ace. He has won for our town A name and a place By his deeds of renown. Hurrah for the eye And the nerve ever steady And his triumphs on high — Three cheers for our Eddie. With the love of our hearts Aglow in our faces. We are welcoming home Our own ace of aces. [44] WELCOME TO TWELFTH REGIMENT OF ENGINEERS When the RepubHc took the gage Of war to save the world aflame. Swift as the flash that called to arms Your eager answer came. Your camp, moored at the Chain of Rocks* On yon historic river's shore. You left ere summer waned and soon Were ocean-bound for war. So far you sped your words came back Like echoes from enchanted land. And you in knightly quest had grown To something new and grand. We heard the news from far Cambrai, Where guns were grasped as shovels fell, From Picardy, where your thin line Held through the battle hell. First honors for the soldier sons Who fell where Fame her signet sets, And cheers for you who bore the flag From London Town to Metz. To you our hearts, and through the years A nation's gratitude and love. While Liberty holds high her torch And heaven bends above. ♦Chain of Rocks. The point on the bank of the Miss- issippi River at which the houseboats were moored in which the Twelfth lived while in training at Camp Gaillard. [45] CONVERTED I He railed at war in the club, on the street; In his home, at his work all day; In the church where at peace the brethren meet And for peace the deacons pray. The waste of it all and the wrong of it all He saw, and the woe in its wake; The embattled hosts that were doomed to fall And the hearts that must bleed and break. And those who were forging the bolts of death Were the vilest of venal men; The "militarists" in his blazing breath Were blistered again and again. Then he called aloud for the end of war And the pagan sway of Mars, For a peace that should compass the earth once more And last as the fadeless stars. With a conscience clear he banished doubt As the sunlight a floating mist. While jingoesi he crushed wiith the sweeping shout,— "I am proud I'm a pacifist." [46] II Came the stressful days on their leaden feet. With their portent grim and vast, And the khaki-clad boys were in the street On their way to the front at last. The serious crowds surged into the halls To hear of the great World War, And their plaudits echoed from throbbing walls At the flights of the orator. And the man of peace with the patriots came To cheer at the head of the list. And the hand that was raised at the Kaiser's name Was the fist of the pacifist. The cause of the wondrous change that I tell Is not in the distance far. For the light that shone from his coat lapel Was the light of a service star. [47] MORNING GLORIES From the shadows of night they called for the dawn In notes that were subtle and clear, In a strain of music too exquisite For the range of mortal ear. From their leafy columns and battlements That were moist with the morning dew, A call for light and a reveille From the bells of their bugles they blew. And lo ! up the east in the blush of the rose Came the tremulous light of the morn. And earth awoke in the fullness of joy To welcome the day new-born. In color arrayed on trellis and wall The heralds stepped into view And bravely their passionate greetings poured From their bugles of pink, white and blue. When up the sky to the throne of light They had played the god of day. Like spirits elate with a work well done They folded their bugles away. — Up the quiet valley one autumn night Came the hoar mist grim and slow. And stilled were the minstrels ; their music no more From the bells of their bugles they blow. 1918. [48] FRAGRANCE OF APPLE BLOOM There is balm in the breath from groves of pine And joy is wafted from meadows green; There is life on the hills of the fruitful vine And bright are the waters between; And tropic sweetness pervades the air Where the proud palm waves its plume; But there's naught so fragrant and naught so fair As the orchard of apple bloom. Chorus : Beautiful vestments of tinted light. Wrought in a fairy's loom ; Buds of pink and flowers of white. Fragrance of apple bloom. The skies were blue when she met me there. Sweet Maud, with cheek like the buds aglow; And bliss supernal was everywhere As she answered, "I love you so." The skies were deep and the stars were bright. And the shadows knew no gloom, As we drank the joy of the moonlit night In the fragrance of apple bloom. In ranks of white stand the orchard trees. And petal flecked is the green below; [49] There's a chorus of birds and a hum of bees And the twilight of long ago. And the evening star is fair to see Where the hills in the distance loom. For a sainted spirit comes back to me With the fragrance of apple bloom. Arbor Day Manual of Ohio, 1908. [50] PREPARE FOR THE HARVEST When the sun beyond the forest Rises in a cloudless sky. And the quiet hills are listening To the streams that babble by; When the joyous birds are singing Hymns of gladness to the spring, — Oh, forget not that 'tis morning And that time is on the wing. Chorus : Then prepare for the harvest. For the springtime will not stay. Sow the seed for the harvest Ere the flowers fade away. Clover blossoms tint the meadows. Lilies nod beside the stream Where the willow waves its tresses And the crystal waters gleam; There is fragrance from the hawthorne On each breeze that passes by — But the hours are moving onward And the tender flowers will die. Though the future seem as peaceful As the tranquil skies of June, [51] Clouds will cross the dim horizon — Youth is but a transient boon. And the sequel of its triumphs Coming years eilone can tell — In the distance duty beckons ; We must bid the past farewell. In this life of cloud and sunshine. While the morning hours remain, Seeds upon the boundless future May be sown for joy or pain. There are treasurers for the faithful Who will labor while they may,- They shall harvest with the reapers When the spring has passed away. May, 1880. [52] TO A ROBIN When the morn of the young year is breaking. And bleak winter winds die away, When the woodland and meadow are waking In the warmth of the lengthening day. From the fruit trees that bud round our dwelling, From the maple that stands near the door. Thy song to the still waste is telling That snow storms of winter are o'er. When Spring decks her green robe with flowers And fragrance is wafted around. When breezes are freeing white showers Of blossoms that float to the ground, With the aid of thy mate thou art weaving A framework of reeds for thy nest. And, whether returning or leaving, A murmur of joy swells thy breast. When May wears her garland of roses And all the glad songsters are here. When beauty, perfected, reposes And the heralds of Summer appear. Though others in music are leading. Still I look from my doorway for thee. And notice thee tenderly feeding Thy young in the old apple tree. [53] When harvest is slowly departing And Summer has finished her crown. When the bright August sunlight is darting Hot beams on the meadows of brown. Thou are gone where the shadows are gliding From branches that mingle above. And there, with companions abiding. Art dreaming of springtime and love. When weary of toil or of sorrow Or faint from the midsummer heat, When oppressed with the thought of the morrow, I stray to thy forest retreat. In the coolness I rest, and I ponder As the world cuid its cares fade away; In the freedom of slumber I wander In dream of a happier day. August, 1879. [54] "LIFE-EVERLASTING" „ l''^?"". these fields of cool October greenness there rises out of the earth a low, sturdy weed. Upon the top of this weed small white blossoms open as still as stars of frost, upon these blossoms lies a fragrance so pure and whole- some that the searchmg sense is never cloyed, never satisfied. Kears after the blossoms are dried and yellow and the leaves are withered and gone, this wholesome fragrance lasts. The common people, who often put their hopes into their names, call it life-everlasting. Sometimes they make themselves pillows of it for its virtue of bringing a quiet — James Lane Allen, in "Aftermath." The sumac is waving its crimson plume And autumn flowers gem the velvet sod ; The thickets are purple with aster bloom And the wayside yellow with goldenrod. The vagrant wind on a matting of grass A rustic carpet of color weaves. From the crimson and gold of the sassafras And the yellow and pink of the maple leaves. The sunflower nods by the rippling rill And the ironweed blooms in the dewy dell. While nods on the slope of the lonely hill The life-everlasting, the immortelle. Nor ghost of the rose, nor the lily's wraith Is seen in the haunts that knew them well. But seed of promise and flower of faith. The life-everlasting, the immortelle, [55] AUTUMN AFTERNOON In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon, When a dreamy languor wraps the vale and hill And the silver brooklet half forgets its tune As it twinkles down the hollow calm and still; When arrayed in gypsy dress of pink and gold. Crest of crimson tint and folds of fading green. Stand the woods in tranquil beauty as of old. Stretching into vistas dim and opaline; When the Year is ripe and mellow it is meet Earth should echo,"Peace is blessed; rest is sweet. In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. Stretch in open order weathered shocks of corn. And the pumpkins, yellow as the harvest moon. Rise among the vines and stubble frayed and worn : In the genial sunshine yawns the timid quail. Where the gorgeous clumps of sassaf rases glow; Drowisly the chipmunk chirps from out a rail; From the distant forest faintly calls the crow. When the Year from fruitful labor turns to rest. Balm and bliss are wafted down the vaulted west. In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. Whiffs of dulcet odor from the orchard trees Tell of bursting sweets that yield a liquid boon For the yellow jackets and the honey bees: Now the plodding plowboy and the laughing lass 156] Well may linger here to sip and feast with these. As they gather apples scattered in the grziss. Better than the fruitage of Hesperides. From the hillside comes at times a muffled sound. As the nut trees drop their tribute to the ground. In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. Founts of warmth and comfort in my being flow. And I little reck that winter will come soon. Swathing wood and meadow in a shroud of snow. Some would choose for heaven summertime eterne, Fragramt with the rose along celestial ways ; This might make me happy, but I still would yearn For the pensive, quiet Indian summer days: For I get a message, never brought by June, In the hazy, lazy autumn afternoon. 1919 [57] ECHO VALE Our words and actions never fail A sure return as joys or ills; This world is all an echo vale Between the mute, eternal hills. Our life we make a field or fen. We fill our days with bliss or bale; What we give forth comes back again. This world is all an echo vale. [58] THE VIOLET The violet, begemmed with dew And bluer than the sky is blue. In early spring along Elk Run Still blossoms in the morning sun And peeps the reeds and grasses through. The bluebirds fly as erst they flew. To kindred flower and color true. And greet, as they for years have done. The violet. The orchards on the slopes renew Their vernal bloom and gently strew Their petals downward one by one; The birds their matins have begun; And all the valley wakes to view TTie violet. 1919 [59] LIBRARY OF CONGRESS llllllilllilllillllil 015 907 427 4 4