But shame that is blacker than pits of hell,
The shame of a night unblessed by light,
The shame of a brain with its murder stain,
And a heart in the grime of war’s red crime.
Woe! woe! woe, is the end of the path
That blackens and blights from war’s red wrath.
This, this is why sweet children cry
And wives and mothers vainly weep—
As the war-woes over their gladness creep.
—Copyright, 1914, by John Milton Scott, and used by the author’s kind permission.