War Chant of the Women [pp. 150]

WAR CHAUNT OF THE WOMEN
TIEARS in a blinding rain, heart's blood wrung forth in vain,
These are our tribute, 0, Spirit of War!
Waves moaning o'er our slain, mounds where our dead have lain,
These be the temples we watch from afar.
Faint with dumb agony, pleading on bended knee,
Lifting weak arms on a pain laden air;
In Life's grim irony, ours the sad company
Left with no weapons save Patience and Prayer.
Father of tenderness,
Soul of the World!
Thou whose sweet breath can bless
Banners unfurled,
Move through Hate's wilderness;
Death's bolts are hurled,
Rob them of bitterness,
God save the world!
Yet from our Passion's night rise we in Sorrow's might,
Born of our weakness the strength to endure.
Speeding our sons to fight, our torches bear the light,
Up with the Standard that marshals the pure!
Ours be the words to nerve, ours be the hands to serve,
While our pale hearts hold commune with the sky;
Never shall flinch nor swerve, never reproach deserve,
Men whose proud mothers once taught them to die.
Father of tenderness,
Soul of the World!
Thou whose sweet breath can bless
Banners unfurled,
Move through Hate's wilderness;
Death's bolts are hurled,
Rob them of bitterness,
God save the world!
Soldiers of Home and Hearth, guardians of Peace on Earth,
Ours the war-summons to work in the rear;
Wan faces own our worth, sinking souls gain new birth,
While we aid heroes, to some woman dear.
By hearth or battle-field, our inner souls we yield,
Soothing Earth's fever, assuaging Earth's woe;
By hearth or battle-field, still our soul's joy we yield,
Easing the death bed of friend and of foe.
Father of tenderness,
Soul of the world!
Thou whose sweet breath can bless
Banners unfurled,
Move through Hate's wilderness;
Death's bolts are hurled,
Rob them of bitterness,
God save the world!
Copyright, Rose-Soley, 1898.
A. R. Rose-Soley