Now you are one with us, you know our tears,
Those tears of pride and pain so fast to flow;
You too have sipped the first strange draught of woe;
You too have tasted of our hopes and fears;
Sister across the ocean, stretch your hand,
Must we not love you more, who learn to understand?
There are new graves in France, new quiet graves;
The first-fruit of a Nation great and free,
Full of rich fire of life and chivalry.
Lie quietly, though tide of battle laves
Above them; sister, sister, see our tears,
We mourn with you, who know so well the bitter years.
Now do you watch with us; your pain of loss
Lit by a wondrous glow of love and power
That flowers, star-like at the darkest hour
Lighting the eternal message of the Cross;
They gain their life who lose it, earth shall rise
Anew and cleansed, because of life's great sacrifice.
And that great band of souls your dead have met,
Who saved the world in centuries past and gone,
Shall find new comrades in their valiant throng;
O, Nation's heart that cannot e'er forget,
Is not death but the door to life begun
To those who hear far Heaven cry, "Well done!"
E. M. Walker.
Training proceeded rapidly, and the sectors where its final stages took place became more and more lively as the Americans were gradually given a freer and freer hand.
ROUGE BOUQUET
[March 7, 1918]
In a wood they call the Rouge Bouquet
There is a new-made grave to-day,
Built by never a spade nor pick
Yet covered with earth ten metres thick.
There lie many fighting men,
Dead in their youthful prime,
Never to laugh nor love again
Nor taste the Summertime.
For Death came flying through the air
And stopped his flight at the dugout stair.
Touched his prey and left them there,
Clay to clay.
He hid their bodies stealthily
In the soil of the land they fought to free
And fled away.
Now over the grave abrupt and clear
Three volleys ring;
And perhaps their brave young spirits hear
The bugle sing:
"Go to sleep!
Go to sleep!
Slumber well where the shell screamed and fell
Let your rifles rest on the muddy floor,
You will not need them any more.
Danger's past;
Now at last,
Go to sleep!"
There is on earth no worthier grave
To hold the bodies of the brave
Than this place of pain and pride
Where they nobly fought and nobly died.
Never fear but in the skies
Saints and angels stand
Smiling with their holy eyes
On this new-come band.
St. Michael's sword darts through the air
And touches the aureole on his hair
As he sees them stand saluting there,
His stalwart sons:
And Patrick, Brigid, Columkill
Rejoice that in veins of warriors still
The Gael's blood runs.
And up to Heaven's doorway floats,
From the wood called Rouge Bouquet,
A delicate cloud of bugle notes
That softly say:
"Farewell!
Farewell!
Comrades true, born anew, peace to you!
Your souls shall be where the heroes are
And your memory shine like the morning-star.
Brave and dear,
Shield us here.
Farewell!"