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Click below to download : To Our Boys "over There" (Format : PDF)
To Our Boys "over There"
Where flies our flag is Freedom's holy ground;There, it unfurls all benisons to Man.
The twin of Spring, its spread unfolds God's plan
Of human happiness, by setting bound
To greed, lust, powers,--all colds,--that Right be crowned.
Lo! where it leads, ye youth form valor's van,
Mirrored and echoed by the azure's span
For ages, for Man's gain in yours is wound.
Oh, justice's Hot Gulf Stream are ye, who open
The sea, which fiendish craft has frozen hard!
Oh, may your warmth for righteousness transform
The tyrant's artic region, with no hope in,
To Freedom's Temperate Zone, which they, who guard
The planets, save from wreck by quake or storm.
(The end)
Edward Doyle's poem: To Our Boys "Over There"
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Now and in life--not Virgil--breaks a storm Of Harpies, harsh to ear and foul to smell. It sweeps War's lengthening coast each sea-swell Is Humans, gasping. Hope drags each cold form From hearth to hearth, to find no ember warm; Then, their eyes glitter frost, who hear hope yell As up she climbs the rocks and falls pell-mell Back from small herbs monsters swoop and swarm. Oh, could the bestial birds, in Virgil's verse,
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O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face. Thou must be happy, being in the skys; And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes. Thou art as one, who breathless after chase, Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace. O fugitive from where no fledgling flies, No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise, Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race! O thou pale moon, who hast companioned Man
O Thou Pale Moon
O fair, full moon! I look close at thy face. Thou must be happy, being in the skys; And, yet, thy flush grows pallor to mine eyes. Thou art as one, who breathless after chase, Would rest, but dreads to check her onward pace. O fugitive from where no fledgling flies, No bee finds bud, and where red billows rise, Engulfing down dark years, the Human Race! O thou pale moon, who hast companioned Man
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