POEM.
We are the* mothers of the world. Draw near And see our anguish, ye who prate of war! To keep our country’s honour bright and clear, It is our share to give the sons we bore ! Oh, baby feet, that ran to us in play' Oh, baby hands, that c lung to us in fear; Bloodstained and rugged your path to-day, And if you call to us, we cannot hear. U»ur hands would reach to you beyond the ni^ht, Our hearts wou’d follow, yet tis all in vain. We cannot shield you through the bitter light, Love cannot hush your new-found sob of pain. Oh, baby lips, that call from out the past, Dear God, and was that joy then only lent? Oh, lives we loved, the darkness holds you fast, Our arms are e’ , and our dreams pent. - V Petersen. From ‘“The Spin Feb. G, 1915.
Permanent link to this item
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19170818.2.27
Bibliographic details
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White Ribbon, Volume 23, Issue 266, 18 August 1917, Page 8
Word count
Tapeke kupu
148POEM. White Ribbon, Volume 23, Issue 266, 18 August 1917, Page 8
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