Page:Marching Men - War Verses (1917).pdf/23



Son o' mine, O little son, Has the race indeed been run—
 * Have the storm-clouds turned the blue and gold to grey?

God be praised who gave you grace, Strength of heart and will to face
 * Wilder winds upon the death-fields far away;

God be praised for lads like you, And for hearts that measure true, Though we turn our brimming eyes To your little brown canoe By the reedy shore that lies All the empty summer through Idly rocking, idly rocking
 * In the bay.