Who Won the War?

Who won the war?
'T was little Belgium stemmed the tide
Of ruthless hordes who thought to ride
Her borders through and prostrate France
Ere yet she'd time to raise her lance.
'T was plucky Belgium.
Who won the war?
Italia broke the galling chain
Which bound her to the guilty twain;
Then fought 'gainst odds till one of these
Lay prone and shattered at her knees.
'T was gallant Italy.
Who won the war?
Old England's watch dogs of the main
Their vigil kept, and not in vain;
For not a ship their wrath dared brave
Save those which skulked beneath the wave.
'T was mighty England.
Who won the war?
'T was France who wrote in noble rage
The grandest words on history's page,
"They shall not pass"—the devilish Hun;
And he could never pass Verdun.
'T was sturdy France.
Who won the war?
In darkest hour there rose a cry,
"Liberty, sweet Liberty, thou shalt not die!"
Thank God! they came across the sea,
Two million men and victory!
'T was glorious America.
Who won the war?
No one of these; not one, but all
Who answered Freedom's clarion call.
Each humble man who did his bit
In God's own book of fame is writ.
These won the war.
Woodbury Pulsifer.

Mothers of Men

The bravest battle that ever was fought!
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the map of the world you will find it not,
'Twas fought by the mothers of men.
Nay, not with cannon or battle shot,
With sword or nobler pen,
Nay, not with eloquent words or thought
From mouths of wonderful men;
But deep in the walled-up woman's heart—
Of woman that would not yield,
But bravely, silently, bore her part—
Lo, there is the battle field!
No marshaling troup, no bivouac song,
No banner to gleam or wave,
But oh, these battles, they last so long—
From babyhood to the grave.
Yet, faithful as a bridge of stars,
She fights in her walled-up town—
Fights on and on in the endless wars,
Then, silent, unseen, goes down.
Oh, ye with banner and battle shot,
And soldiers to shout and praises
I tell you the kingliest victories fought
Were fought in those silent ways.
Oh, spotless in a world of shame,
With splendid and silent scorn,
Go back to God as white as you came—
The kingliest warrior born!
Joaquin Miller.

Plain Bob and a Job

Bob went lookin' for a job—
Didn't want a situation; didn't ask a lofty station:
Didn't have a special mission for a topnotcher's position;
Didn't have such fine credentials—but he had the real essentials—
Had a head that kept on workin' and two hands that were not shirkin';
Wasn't either shirk or snob;
Wasn't Mister—just plain Bob,
Who was lookin' for a job.
Bob went lookin' for a job;
And he wasn't scared or daunted when he saw a sign—"Men Wanted,"
Walked right in with manner fittin' up to where the Boss was sittin',
And he said: "My name is Bob, and I'm lookin' for a job;
And if you're the Boss that hires 'em, starts 'em working and that fires 'em,
Put my name right down here, Neighbor, as a candidate for labor;
For my name is just plain 'Bob,
And my pulses sort o' throb
For that thing they call a job."
Bob kept askin' for a job,
And the Boss, he says: "What kind?" And Bob answered: "Never mind;
For I am not a bit partic'ler and I never was a stickler
For proprieties in workin'—if you got some labor lurkin'
Anywhere around about kindly go and trot it out.
It's, a job I want, you see—
Any kind that there may be
Will be good enough for me."
Well, sir, Bob he got a job.
But the Boss went 'round all day in a dreamy sort of way;
And he says to me: "By thunder, we have got the world's Eighth Wonder!
Got a feller name of Bob who just asked me for a job—
Never asks when he engages about overtime in wages;
Never asked if he'd get pay by the hour or by the day;
Never asked me if it's airy work and light and sanitary;
Never asked me for my notion of the chances of promotion;
Never asked for the duration of his annual vacation;
Never asked for Saturday half-a-holiday with pay;
Never took me on probation till he tried the situation;
Never asked me if it's sittin' work or standin', or befittin'
Of his birth and inclination—he just filed his application,
Hung his coat up on a knob,
Said his name was just plain Bob—
And went workin' at a job!"
James W. Foley.