TO THE AMERICAN LEGION.
We have vowed a vow and we may not turn aside,
We are under oath to our comrades who have died
And they prompt us still and they will not be denied.
We are not our own, for our lives are under bond
To the martyr leaders who have passed beyond,
For they still command and we cannot but respond.
We are not our own, for we lost our liberty
On the day they died who had longed to make men free,
Whose compelling dream must be law for you and me.
There are those who made no agreement with the dead,
Who are free to laugh and to feast, but some instead
Will be stern with thinking on those who fought and bled.
There is room for song and for dance (but not for these),
And the frightened world must be blindfolded with ease,
But we fall heir to the great austerities.
For the Foe remains in a thousand forms elate,
And there is no armistice with Greed and Hate,
And no truce with Slavery though the day grow late.
Ay, the Foe remains who will grant us this joy more,
The same cross in peace that our comrades found in war,
And unite us so to the heroes gone before.
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