CAROLYN WELLS Who is it stands on the polished stair, A merry, laughing, winsome maid, From the Christmas rose in her golden hair To the high-heeled slippers of spangled suede A glance, half daring and half afrai... Read more of A Ballade Of Old Loves at Christmas Story.caInformational Site Network Informational
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World Wars

Where The Tide Turned
It is the general impression that the tide of victory set in ...

The Secret Service
The United States did not declare war till nearly three years...

Pershing At The Tomb Of Lafayette
They knew they were fighting our war. As the months gr...

America Enters The War
SPEECH BY LLOYD GEORGE, BRITISH PREMIER, APRIL 12, 1917 ...

The United States Marines
Our flag's unfurled to every breeze From dawn to setti...

The Kaiser's Crown
(VERSAILLES, JANUARY 18, 1871) The wind on the Thames ...

The Searchlights
Political morality differs from individual morality, because ...

President Wilson In France
On December 14, 1918, President Wilson arrived in Paris. He ...

To Wish To Take Away One From The Immortal Glory Which Belongs
to the Allied armies, nor from the undying gratitude which we o...

The Yank
The boche went into the war as a robber, the poilu as a crusa...

The First To Fall In Battle
During the trench warfare, it was customary to raid the enemy...

Redeemed Italy
Italy, since 1860 at least, has cherished the dream that some...

I Knew You Would Come
We are all very proud that America was permitted to have a sh...

The Quality Of Mercy
There is an old saying, Like king, like people, which means t...

Where The Four Winds Meet
There are songs of the north and songs of the south, A...

November 11 1918
Sinners are said sometimes to repent and change their ways at...

The Little Old Road
There's a breath of May in the breeze On the little ol...

When The Tide Turned
THE AMERICAN ATTACK AT CHATEAU-THIERRY AND BELLEAU WOOD IN TH...

A Carol From Flanders
1914 In Flanders on the Christmas morn The trench...

The Tommy
John Masefield, the English writer, says, St. George did not ...



After-days






When the last gun has long withheld
Its thunder, and its mouth is sealed,
Strong men shall drive the furrow straight
On some remembered battlefield.

Untroubled they shall hear the loud
And gusty driving of the rains,
And birds with immemorial voice
Sing as of old in leafy lanes.

The stricken, tainted soil shall be
Again a flowery paradise--
Pure with the memory of the dead
And purer for their sacrifice.

ERIC CHILMAN






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