Here, too, are gray-haired women looking back
At wavering lines of Blue and Gray;
They stitch into each garment's hem
Pale memories of that vanished day,
And kiss each seam.
At wavering lines of Blue and Gray;
They stitch into each garment's hem
Pale memories of that vanished day,
And kiss each seam.
And these—these other women grave of face,
Folding the "dressings," lined and pressed?
These are the mothers of the men
Gone forth upon the new war quest
Where Freedom calls—
Folding the "dressings," lined and pressed?
These are the mothers of the men
Gone forth upon the new war quest
Where Freedom calls—
The brave, proud mothers and the "best beloved"
Of all the gallant men they spare;
They leave a blessing in each fold
And sew in every seam a prayer
That peace may come.
Of all the gallant men they spare;
They leave a blessing in each fold
And sew in every seam a prayer
That peace may come.
********
So here in this long room are gathered up
The threads that spin the martial creed
Our country holds; and here there brood
The spirit-wings that patriots need
Of love and faith.
The threads that spin the martial creed
Our country holds; and here there brood
The spirit-wings that patriots need
Of love and faith.
The needles stop, the swift wheels softly whirr,
The sun goes golden to the west;
The Red Cross workers fold the garments by:
God keep each wearer safe and blest—
That is our prayer.
The sun goes golden to the west;
The Red Cross workers fold the garments by:
God keep each wearer safe and blest—
That is our prayer.
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