Could She Do Less

Calmly the Red Cross nurse worked, mid the drone of the planes and the burst of shell; To the new made mother in the narrow bed, the sound was a prelude to another night of Hell.
The look of bitterness in the fair young face, that should have shown only pride and joy Told of a hatred of the enemy that had made her the widowed mother of her new-born boy.
Mingled with the staccato of the machine gun fir came the pitiful wail of a child Pitifully thin, it died away, to be echoed, redoubled by the shriek of a siren gone wild. “Can’t you quiet that child?”, the mother asked of a white clad nurse passing by.
“Its mother has died, we have no milk, if it does not get nourishment ’twill surely die”. “Let it die! They killed my baby’s father! What do they care that he will never see his son?”
“I came here that he might be with me in my hour,
But those cruel words, Killed in Action; told me he would never come.
Oh, I hate them! Hate even that crying baby, his father might have been the one
To speed the bullet that closed my darling’s eyes forever from the light of God’s sun” Her outbreak over, the gentle nurse soothing her as best she may:
She gazed upon her son, as cradled on her arm he lay.
“How like his father! What fate’s in store for him?”
And as her thoughts arose, again the pitiful cry, high and thin.
“Oh, God, what if that were my child, doomed to die by mans cruel greed and lust?” Who am I to mete vengeance to the innocent, I can help him, I must
Nurse bring me that baby, I have nourishment enough for two;
To fill a baby’s stomach is little enough to do
For Him who gave His only Son that we might live;
And by His blessed example, teach His children to forgive.
Dear God, teach me these two babes to discipline (so far apart yet nourished from one breast,)
That they, brotherly love may attain
And so show all mankind, that God still lives,
And on a darkened world, His love will shine again

We Are The Dead

We are the hero dead.
Did we after all die in vain?
Far from our native land we fared forth
To right the wrong, to save the world for democracy
Hark ye to us!
Better had we bided at home to till the soil, to build homes,
Whose life blood we were
To father children, for we are the country’s best.
Rather than to have home-sickness, hunger, pain and death,
So that all who came after
Might have everlasting peace,
Only to have it flung back in our faces
By those hands that crave only power.
God in Heaven who calls all men Thy children
And only ruler of the world,
Who rules by love, not dictatorship,
Teach all people the meaning of Thy words
“Love thy neighbor as thyself’
Foe hate, not love is choking the world
And fear is stalking abroad.
Stalking the countries over whose fair lands
The shadow of the power lust creature is reaching forth
With clutching hands, dripping with blood
Give strength , Oh, God, to the good men and true.
Give wisdom to guide, so many could have that
Undeniable right to truth, justice and freedom
And grant, Oh Lord, that this world
That Thou hast made so beautiful
Shall not be turned into something accursed,
But shall rise purified, a monument to Thy love

Prayer For Forgiveness

Our Father, builder and ruler of our universe, look down with pity
And tolerance on us, Thy weak and erring children.
Judge us not too hastily, God for the sins,
both of commission and omission, which we have committed.
But rather give us one more chance to redeem Thy faith in us.
The faith Thou had’st when Thou didst send thine only beloved son,
To die on the cross for our transgressions
Guide us Father , and give us faith to carry on His works.
Living for our brothers,
Feeding the hungry, healing the sick
For oh, Father , today in this world that Thou didst build so
Beautiful, so many are sick in mind as well as body,
Minds warped with the diseases of hate, greed and lust.
But let us be of good cheer, knowing that even though our paths,
Running through the valley of evil temptation, and strewn with thorns,
Shall be lighted always with the sun of Thy love,
The vision of Thy everlasting Kingdom, to be our reward
When Thou hast said, “Well done”

Apron Strings

One night I sat in my rocker
Sort of thinking of days gone by,
When a tune came over the radio
That really made me cry
The words I heard were touching,
And set to a tender refrain
And a sweet voice sang, “Please tie me
To your apron strings again”.
As I walked in the past and reminisced,
Lived over those days once more,
Tears rolled down my face unheeded
And fell to the kitchen floor.
Dear little tots, how I loved them.
It thrilled me to watch them play
In their little playhouses
And their sand piles day by day.

But they grew up as boys and girls do,
We would have it no other way.
Today I dream of the precious hope,
I want it all to come true,
That my boys and girls and their dad
Will be in that beautiful earth made new
We will walk down those mystical paths,
Pick the flowers that never fade,
Admire all the precious things
That God in his wisdom made.
Oh, if only each one can be there
To y all those lovely things,
I hope not one will be missing,
But all tied to my apron strings.

If

I have dreamed dreams and seen a vision
Of what this old world might be,
Had the serpent never entered Eden
And tempted Eve with the fruit from the tree
How sweetly in peace with each other
Would every nation dwell,
And the love of man for his fellow-man
No mortal tongue could tell.
There would be no unholy warfare
No slaughter of innocents for greed,
Just a simple request of a brother
No sooner asked than received.
There would be no crowded jailhouses
No chamber of torture for us,
For God’s love would fill every bosom
And each one would bless, not curse.
Our little children, who cling trustingly
When we hear their prayers at night,
Would know that God in His Heaven, sends angels
To guard them ’till morning light
And safely could they venture forth on the morrow
To their school or play,
Unafraid of the grisly shadow
Stalking them like birds of prey.
Who would long for the worlds dazzling wonders
Paid for so dearly by you and me,
If the earth was lighted only by God’s love
Shining as the sun and as free

Shall We Have War?

Shall we have war?
Ask ye that of we mothers, whose breasts have known the feel
Of tender baby lips?
Oh, we know to well how the mention of war
Makes our hearts congeal, Down into that dark valley
From which there seemed no return, we journey
To bring back our precious gifts, our sturdy little sons.
Pain and agony we bore, nor deemed too great a price,
To pay for the joy of a baby’s love, the sound of a baby’s voice.
Through toddling years we watched, ever with tender care,
Each faltering footstep, guarded with a mother’s prayer.
The first day of school, in spite of courage high,
Our eyes were wet with tears.
Knowing full well that baby was growing up and yet,
Could we hope to always keep them under our own roof-tree?
Ah, no, but ever guiding, teaching the noble things in life to see
Striving always to have them attain with youthful zest
That high standard of character that makes for the best
For their home, their community, and their country’s good.
Now they are men, a cruel war sends shadows across the sky.
God grant the men who hold our dear son’s lives in their hands,
Will see eye to eye
With mothers, whose voices should be the only ones
To say if her dearly bought gifts
Shall be destroyed by an enemy’s guns

Apple Blossom Time

Take me not to far distant cities
Where tall the house grow
Take me out to the dear old orchard
Where the sweet apple blossoms blow
Where the air is heavy with perfume
And each tree is a fairy bower.
Nothing’s so sweet the wide world o’er
As an apple tree in flower

As I think of the bright days of childhood
When life was free from care
How with my playmates in summer
We gamboled in freedom there.
First the blossoms, then the fruit,
We plucked them with careless hand.
Now I’d give all I possess
If there, once again I could stand.

But there’s only a memory left for me
Of that night so long ago
And that sweetheart dear, who came to me
When we made our loving vow
How well I remember the pale gold moon
That peeped through the tree at us there
And the sweet perfume of the apple blooms
Seemed to vie with the scent of her hair
When I have crossed the border,
And her dear face I see,
If it be in that same orchard
Then it will be heaven for me.

What the Bells Said

The bells in the steeples at midnight
Rang in the glad new year.
And the message true, they sent to you
Was plain for all to hear
In tones so sweet they seemed to say
“Be kind and true with all your might,
Help one another every day
To keep the whole year bright”

Satisfied

Soft as a baby’s breath the dawn crept over the hill
Sweet as the lutes soft notes, the birds began their trill.
Hues that no artist’ brush could capture for an hour
Flooded the whole great land, Down to the littlest flower
And as old Sol rose up in his glory, ’twas then in my heart I knew
The reason for this loveliness was my mental picture of you.
You are the vision of all my desires,

You are the flame of all my fires.
Without you, there would be no dawn o’er the hill.
Without you the birds would never trill.
If it were not , there would be no hours
Without time there would be no flowers.

And each one would bless not curse.
Our little children, who cling trustingly
Would know God in His Heaven, sends angels
To guard them ’til morning light
And safely could they venture forth on the morrow
To their school or play,
Unafraid of grisly shadow
Stalking them like birds of prey.
Who would long for the world’s dazzling wonders
Paid for so dearly by you and me
If the earth was lighted by God’s love
Shining as the sun and as free

The Fledgling

Dear little girl with your wide eyes of blue
Laughing and singing the whole day through.
Would that I could keep you so,
Innocent of all the world and its woe.
But fledglings must try their wings
And take whatever the hard world brings,
Impatient of days you must stay in the nest
Wondering if mother really knows best
Then away like the wind, with young hopes high,
Sure that hard luck will pass you by.
But pain and sorrow knows no beggar nor king
And sooner or later you must feel life’s sting.
So, it takes so many years of strife
To find childhoods’ hours the happiest of life