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Show The Son Edward Markham, the poet, under the unpatriotic title "I Did Not Raise My Hoy to be SoMier " wrote this stanza: m "0 mother, will you longer give your To feed the awful hunger of the guns. What Is the worth of all these battle drums If from the field the loved one never returns' What j, these loud liosonnas to the brave If all your share is some forgotten grave," Dr. James I). Hughes, for over thirty years Superintendent Superin-tendent of Education of tin- schools of Toronto, Canada, answered an-swered this poem. Greater significance h given to the answer an-swer by the fact that Dr. Hughes' own son was killed in Imttle and lies "somewhere in France." His answer follows: 'oil gave my son in trust in me ; Christ died for hint, and he should be A man tor Christ. He is his own, And God's and men's; not mine alone v was not mine to "give." Ho gave Himself that he might help to save All that a Christian should revere. All that enlightened men hold dear. "To feed the Kims!" O torpid soul! Awake, and see life as a whole. When freedom, honor, justice, right, Were threatened ly the despot's might, With heart aflame and soul alight. He bravely went for Cod to tight Against hase savages, whose pride The laws f Cod and man defied; Who slew the mother and her child. Who maidens pure and sweet defiled. He went to save from ruthless Huns His home and country, and to be A guardian of democracy. "What if he does not comer" you sav : All, well ! My sky would be more grav. But through the clouds the sun would shine And vital memories would he mine. God's test of manhood is, I know, Not "Will he come?" hut "Did he go?" My son well knew that he might die. And yet he went, with purpose high To fight for peace and overthrow The plans of Christ's relentless foe. - - n. - S "-"---- "" ""- --JWV - -MT. W He dreaded not the battle field, He went to make fierce vandals yield. If he does not come again to me It shall he sad ; hut not that he Went like a man -a hero true His part unselfishly to do". lv heart will feel exultant pride Thai for humanity he died. "forgotten gravel This selfish plea Awakes no deep response in me For, though his grave I may not sec. M boy will ne'er forgotten be. My real son can never die; 'Tis Imt his body that may lie lii foreign land, and I shall keep Remembrance fond, forever, deep Within my heart of my true son Because of triumphs that he won. It matters not where anyone May lie and sleep when work is done. It matters not where some men live; If m dear son his life must give, Hosannas I will sing, for him, E'en though ni eyes with tears he dim. And when the War is over, when His gallant comrades come again, I'll cheer them as they're marching h', Rejoicing that they did not die. nd when his vacant place 1 sec My heart will hound with joy thai he Was mine so long my fair young son - And cheer for him whose work is done |