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Poem by Katharine Tynan
As up and down I fare by road and street The mothers of our men-at-arms I meet Who die for mine and me, That we go safe and free, Sit in the sun, sleep soft and find life sweet. I have two sons too young to fight, too young, God grant if my hour comes I may be strong, And caught in such a strait May praise God and be great, Giving my sons to save some woman from wrong! Oh, mothers of dead heroes, ye I know, My heart sends you a greeting, soft and low; Blessed are ye whose sons Amid the ransomed ones Throng to the banners of Heaven as white as snow. Somehow, by some secret and certain sign, The mothers of the beloved I divine Who died in my sons' place. My heart kneels and gives grace. Gives thanks for you, for you, proud sisters of mine!
Katharine Tynan's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org