Mother.... O Mother.... Mother!
(A woman comes forward holding wide arms for the three)
THE WOMAN
Children, you are not going—you, my babies?
It seems but yesterday my body held you—
It seems but yesterday your toys were lying,
Toy cannon and bright soldiers made of tin
Upon the cottage floor. O children, children,
Who are just old enough at last to leave me—
Surely you will not leave your poor old mother?
ONE BOY
The bugle called us and we must be going—
THE WOMAN,
A bugle calls more strongly than a mother....
THE SECOND BOY
We will come back to you as heroes, mother....