Page:Poems of Patriotism (1942).djvu/15

 Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run— You make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.

What is it through the battle smoke the valiant soldier sees? The little garden far away, the budding apple trees, The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play, Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray. The golden thread of courage isn’t linked to castle dome But to the spot, where’er it be—the humble spot called home.

And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there, And homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air; The tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green,