Allies, you have not called in vain;
We share your conflict and your pain.
“Old Glory,” through new stains and rents,
Partakes of Freedom’s sacraments.
Into that hell his will creates
We drive the foe—his lusts, his hates.
Last come, we will be last to stay,
Till Right has had her crowning day.
Replenish, comrades, from our veins
The blood the sword of despot drains,
And make our eager sacrifice
Part of the freely rendered price
You pay to lift humanity—
You pay to make our brothers free.
See, with what proud hearts we advance
To France!
NAZARETH
“L”
in the Chicago Tribune
On the capture of the city by the British under General Allenby, September 21, 1918.
ACROSS the sands by Mary’s well
Along the shores of Galilee,
The paths are pitted deep with shell
And drab with marching infantry.
Perhaps upon the self-same spot
Where He first lifted up His head,
In cellar straw and manger cot,
Now Freedom’s hosts are billeted.
Then ’twas a life—now myriad death.
The Allied troops win Nazareth.
THE CRIMSON CROSS
ELIZABETH BROWN DU BRIDGE
in The Daily News, Sault Ste. Marie