Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/198

 Lloyd Roberts

What! You don t understand? You refuse my right hand? You say might is right, And to live we must fight? Are we still in such plight? Poor, blind, stupid fool, so deep in the dust- Well, hand me the gun If I must if I must!

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��ARMENIA

AVE you got a mother ? A sister ? A brother ? Maybe a child? Surely someone most dear? Then you I am speaking to, you, not another Must hear.

She is dying in Morash! Your sister is dying!

Didn t you know it?

A league from the town by the road she is lying,

While the soldiers are laughing and chaffing

To see her die

And blind, broken, bitter, the dumb mass crawls by.

Of course she s your sister just as much as your sister Her God is the same, her form and her face. You ve not even missed her or thought of that place? If Turkey-in-Asia were Turkey-Right-Here Then would you care?

Your mother was old too old for such worry

But they drove her outside.

Hurry ! Hurry !

She was too old to hurry

And so, she died.

Your mother? I know she s your mother Just the same eyes, just the same breast

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