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Rh Though we, till seas run dry,

Your lovers are,

How can we put it by,

Red cup of war?

We champion your task;

Your wounds we bind;

Behind the battle mask

Our eyes are kind.

Upon this foaming edge

Of blood and flame,

With shuddering lips we pledge

Your name.

RE-ARMAMENT

BY M. A. DE WOLFE HOWE

all the armor forged by man, not all the weapons he has made for his defense, have saved him.

Ships and guns, poisonous fumes, deadly engines of the skies and the waters, have availed, for the moment, not to make the old world better, but to make the new world worse.

The incense of valor and sacrifice and death—all honor and reverence to the noble spirits who made these immortal offerings!—has risen from the altars, and not yet is the world re-born.