Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3827/To the Shirker: A Last Appeal
Now of your free choice, while the chance is yours To share their glory who have gladly died Shielding the honour of our island shores And that fair heritage of starry pride,— Now, ere another evening's shadow falls, Come, for the trumpet calls.
What if to-morrow through the land there runs This message for an everlasting stain?—"England expected each of all her sons To do his duty—but she looked in vain; Now she demands, by order sharp and swift, What should have been a gift."
For so it must be, if her manhood fail To stand by England in her deadly need; If still her wounds are but an idle tale The word must issue which shall make you heed; And they who left her passionate pleas unheard Will have to hear that word.
And, losing your free choice, you also lose Your right to rank, on Memory's shining scrolls, With those, your comrades, who made haste to choose The willing service asked of loyal souls; From all who gave such tribute of the heart Your name will stand apart.
I think you cannot know what meed of shame Shall be their certain portion who pursue Pleasure "as usual" while their country's claim Is answered only by the gallant few. Come, then, betimes, and on her altar lay Your sacrifice to-day! O. S.