Your ears have heard the din of war,
The martial tramp of feet,
Your voice has risen to your God
In supplications sweet.
May angels kiss each furrowed scar
Upon your brow where care has trod.
God bless the hands all withered now
By age and weary care.
God rest the feet that sought the way
To freedom bright and fair.
God bless thy life and e’er endow
Thee with new strength each new-born day.
Mae Smith Johnson.
EBON MAID AND GIRL OF MINE
The sweetest charm of all the earth
Came into being with her birth.
All that without her we would lack
She is in purity and black.
The pansy and the violet,
The dark of all the flowers met
And gave their wealth of color in
The sable beauty of her skin.
Glad winds of evening are her face,
Gentle with love and rich in grace;
The blazing splendors of her eyes
Are jewels from the midnight skies.
Her hair—the darkness caught and curled,
The ancient wonder of the world—
Seems, in its strange, uncertain length,
A constant crown of queenly strength.
Her smile, it is the rising moon,
The waking of a night in June;
Her teeth are tips of white, they gleam
Like starlight in a happy dream.
Her laughter is a Christmas bell
Of “peace on earth and all is well!”
Her voice—it is the dearest part
Of all the glory in her heart.
The height of joy, the deep of tears,
The surging passion of the years,
The mystery and dark of things,
We feel their meanings when she sings.