Oh, mother, bear the pain a-while, as long ago
you bore it;
You suffered then to win his smile, and you
were happier for it;
And now you suffer once again, and bear your
weight of sorrow;
Yet you shall thrill with gladness when he wins
the glad to-morrow.
Oh, mother, when the cannons roar and all the
brave are fighting,
Remember that the son you bore the wrongs
of earth is righting;
Remember through the hours of pain that he
with all his brothers
Is battling there to win again a happy world
for mothers.
He Should Meet a Mother There
If he should meet a mother there
Along some winding Flanders road,
No extra touch of grief or care
He'll add unto her heavy load.
But he will kindly take her arm
And tender as her son will be;
He'll lead her from the path of harm
Because of me.
Be she the mother of his foe,
He will not speak to her in hate;
My boy will never stoop so low
As motherhood to desecrate.
But she shall know what once I knew--
Eyes that are glorious to see,
The light of manhood shining through--
Because of me.
He will salute her as they meet,
And stand before her bare of head;
If she be hungry, she may eat
His last remaining bit of bread.
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