For to-morrow he goes forth to battle! Arm him for Freedom and Right.
(The effectiveness of the above poem will depend mainly upon the reading. The words are a constant outburst of emotions that find relief only in vocal expression--and unless the reader can fully enter into sympathy with the various feelings displayed by the widowed mother when she learns that her only remaining son is drafted, its rare qualities will be lost on the audience. The tableaux are but a mere accompaniment.)
SUGGESTIONS.
First Stanza. Scene. Ordinary sitting-room; lady in widow’s weeds, knitting near table--having books, papers and work on it--in center of foreground. She rises to greet army officer in uniform, who enters at left, carrying hat in left hand, and in his right, official paper which he passes to lady who reads and turns to him as the reader (who is concealed) pronounces the first words. Her face expresses surprise and incredulity during first half of first line; then expostulation and entreaty. At the words: “Great God,” she drops back into her chair, overwhelmed by the thought.
Second Stanza. Without rising, she again turns to the officer, and argues the case with special resistance on the last half of the last line.
Third Stanza. She is roused to dispute the officer’s charge that she is not a patriot, and there is defiance in her attitude as she calls up the memory of Robert’s enlisting.
Fourth Stanza. Her manner changes as her recollection goes back to Harry’s babyhood, and she grows tender in the thoughts of her dead husband.
Fifth Stanza. Reflecting on what seems great injustice, her head bowed on her hand.
Sixth Stanza. She turns her face to the officer again, to answer his arguments, her face first expressing the helplessness she feels, then doubt.
Seventh Stanza. Still addressing the officer she becomes hard in her despair. At the words “My boy” she turns from the officer, holds out both arms to Harry, who has just entered from rear and advances to meet his mother, who embraces him, weeping. Officer retires slowly and quietly, from rear, wiping his eyes. Harry brings a low stool and sits upon it, his elbow on his mother’s chair--she caressing him.