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The United States At War--at Home
When any nation declares war, it immediately brings upon itse...

Harry Lauder Sings
Harry Lauder, an extremely popular Scotch singer and entertai...

The Miner And The Tiger
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After-days
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The Unspeakable Turk
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Where Are You Going Great-heart?
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At The Front
What one soldier writes, millions have experienced. At f...

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

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

Just Before The Tide Turned
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Where The Four Winds Meet
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A Boy Of Perugia
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Why The United States Entered The War
The United States was slow to enter the war, because her peop...

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

Four Soldiers
THE BOCHE The boche was chiefly what his masters made him....

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

United States Day
United States Day was celebrated in Paris on April 20, 1918. ...

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

The Soldiers Who Go To Sea
If the army or the navy ever gaze on Heaven's scenes, Th...



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?

GERTRUDE VAUGHAN.


[1] The Battle of Ypres.





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