To The Others
This was the gleam then that lured from
Your son and my son to the Holy War:
Your son and my son for the
With the banner of Christ over them, in steel arrayed.
All quiet roads of life ran on to this;
When they were little for their mother's kiss.
Little feet hastening, so soft, unworn,
To the vows and the vigil and the road of thorn.
Your son and my son, the downy things,
Sheltered in mother's breast, by mother's wings,
Should they be broken in the Lord's wars—Peace!
He Who has given them—are they not His?
Dream of knight's armour and the battle-shout,
Fighting and falling at the last redoubt,
Dream of long dying on the field of slain;
This was the dream that lured, nor lured in vain.
These were the Voices they heard from far;
Bugles and trumpets of the Holy War.
Your son and my son have heard the call,
Your son and my son have stormed the wall.
Your son and my son, clean as new swords;
Your man and my man and now the Lord's!
Your son and my son for the Great Crusade,
With the banner of Christ over them—our knights new-made.
Katharine Tynan
Other author posts
For the Airmen
OU who guidest the swallow and wren, Keep the paths of the flying men Over the mountains, over the seas Thou hast given the bird-folk compasses Thou guidest them, yea,
Nymphs
Where are ye now, O beautiful girls of the mountain, Oreads all Nothing at all stirs here save the drip of the fountain; Answers our Only the heart-glad thrush, in the Vale of Thrushes; Stirs in the
Unhouseld Unanointed Unaneld
When these men must go Sans an absolution, When their sins are heavy as lead, Thou Thyself will lift the head ;
The Legend of St Austin and the Child
St Austin, going in thought Along the sea-sands gray, Into another world was caught, And Carthage far away
