O mothers with little sons And burning hearts to teach, You are the chosen ones— Give hearing, I beseech! The world is a ghastly place Since war has slain our men; But yours is the gift And yours the grace To bring love back again. Mothers, I beg you, heed What hate's dark hand has done; How the hearts of people bleed Till peace and right are won. How the maimed and halt and blind And the dread ones hidden away Are a challenge to all mankind To fashion a better way. Mothers with little sons, As you hold them to your breast, Teach them to hate the guns, That love and faith are best. Show how the tyrant War Destroys but does not win; How the goals men battle for Are lost with the world's great sin. Strip from the monster's frame His glittering robe of lies; Show him in all his shame To your children's visioning eyes. Show how the lust to kill Is the jungle's law of might, And shells dropped down on a helpless town Are murder in God's sight. O mothers with little sons Who stand with lifted faces, All of earth's helpless ones Cry from the lonely places. And the dead men plead their cause, And the crippled men implore: "Go, fashion the Future's laws That war shall be no more." For war is a knave's design, And a coward's brutal scheme, And men whose courage is divine Shall foster a nobler dream. O mothers with little sons, The years lie in your hands. You are the chosen ones, Men wait for your commands. Not till your lips declare: "Our sons no more shall fight!" Shall the crimson soil be fair And the ravaged earth be right | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER TREES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE by BLISS CARMAN THE ROVER O' LOCHRYAN by HEW AINSLIE OF BENEVOLENCE: AN EPISTLE TO EUMENES by JOHN ARMSTRONG PEACE GUARANTEED by MARY J. ARMSTRONG |