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World Wars

When the last gun has long withheld Its thunder, and i...

America Comes In
We are coming from the ranch, from the city and the mine, ...

When The Tide Turned

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

To Villingen--and Back
Very remarkable in the world struggle for liberty was the eag...

Nations Born And Reborn
In America, and in many other countries, people have listened...

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

Joyce Kilmer
The first poet and author in the American army to give up his...

On slight pretext, Germany in 1864 and in 1866 had made wars ...

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. ...

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man...

Just Before The Tide Turned
On the 27th of last May the Germans broke through the French ...

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

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

Where Are You Going Great-heart?
Where are you going, Great-Heart, With your eager face...

At The Front
What one soldier writes, millions have experienced. At f...

The Really Invincible Armada
The northern coast of Scotland is about as far north as the s...

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

The Second Line Of Defense
In Norwich, England, stands a memorial which will forever be ...

The Little Old Road

There's a breath of May in the breeze
On the little old road;
May in hedges and trees,
May, the red and the white,
May to left and to right,
Of the little old road.

There's a ribbon of grass either side
Of the little old road;
It's a strip just so wide,
A strip nobody owns,
Where a man's weary bones
When he feels getting old
May lie crushing the gold
Of the silverweed flower
For a long lazy hour
By the little old road.

There's no need to guide the old mare
On the little old road.
She knows that just there
Is the big gravel pit
(How we played in it
As mites of boys
In our corduroys!)
And that here is the pond
With the poplars beyond,
And more May--always May,
Away and away
Down the little old road.

There's a lot to make a man glad
On the little old road
(It's the home-going road),
And a lot to make him sad.
Ah! he'd like to forget,
But he can't, not just yet,
With chaps still out there. . . .
She's stopping, the steady old mare.
Is it here the road bends?
So the long journey ends
At the end of the old road,
The little old road.

There's some one, you say, at the gate
Of the little old house by the road?
Is it Mother? Or Kate?
And they're not going to mind
That, since Wypers, [1] I'm blind,
And the road is a long dark road?


[1] The Battle of Ypres.

Next: Harry Lauder Sings

Previous: The Fleet That Lost Its Soul

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