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THE LITTLE HOMES
Oh, the Little Homes are cheerful—
Little Homes that know no pride
But the pride of sacrificing
Loved ones to the battle tide!
They are many, many, brothers,
And their sacrifice is great,
Shrines are they and sacred places,
Where the women wait.
Aye, the Little Homes are holy
At the darkening of day,
When young wives must face their sorrow,
When grey mothers kneel to pray,
Magnifying, in dread visions,
Danger where the soldier roams,
Then God heed the lonely sobbing,
In the Little Homes.