Page:Soldier poets, songs of the fighting men, 1916.djvu/109

Rh Peer for these months of those whose graves grow green

Where'er the borders of our empire fling

Their mighty arms. And if the crown is death,

Death while I'm fighting for my home and king,

Thank God the son who drew from you his breath

To death could bring

A not entirely worthless sacrifice,

Because of those brief months when life meant more

Than selfish pleasures. Grudge not then the price,

But say, "Our country in the storm of war

Has found him fit to fight and die for her,"

And lift your heads in pride for evermore.

But when the leaves the evening breezes stir

Close not the door.

For if there's any consciousness to follow

The deep, deep slumber that we know as Death,

If Death and Life are not all vain and hollow,

If Life is more than so much indrawn breath,

Then in the hush of twilight I shall come—

One with immortal Life, that knows not Death

But ever changes form—I shall come home;

Although, beneath

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