ANY SOLDIER SON TO HIS MOTHER.
If 1 am taken from this patchwork life By some swift outburst of an unseen arm — The death tiiat strikes in\ comrades day anil night I pray you make of it no cause of tears, I Ih*r you grieve not for me overmuch. And for your comfort 1 would pen this thought: The joy you had of me in childhood's days \\ hen in vour arms I played or cried or prayed (Those soft, warm arms! Can you or 1 forget?) Will still remain with you when I am gone. It is so real now, that memory; Not death itself can rob you of your child. The boy 1 was, the man I grew to be, Despite the mother's tender hopes and fears, How distant, how detached and cold they seem. And so, sweet mother, here I stand to meet Mv fate, thi> night and any night ; but still \our child, imperishable whilst you breathe; A* in the cradle, *0 until the end. —N. G. 11. in “London Spectator.”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19190419.2.31
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White Ribbon, Volume 24, Issue 286, 19 April 1919, Page 10
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174ANY SOLDIER SON TO HIS MOTHER. White Ribbon, Volume 24, Issue 286, 19 April 1919, Page 10
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