THE BOY ACROSS THE SEA
Paraphrasing a well-known song to fit a new emergency one of my good
friends, on learning the title of my new book, sends the following
lines which he hopes may find a place in _Making Life Worth While_. And
so they shall, with many, many thanks to the contributor.
Keep the home fires burning,
For our boy across the sea,
Then he’ll know, when he comes home
Things are as he hoped they’d be.
Loving hearts are yearning,
Eager eyes grow dim,
Many are there bowed down in prayer--
Hoping--longing--calling for him.
There is a wonderful pathos in this lyric. Al Jolson, in a serious
moment, could put enough soul stirring melody in the last line to bring
an audience to its feet. And wouldn’t “Rodey” make a Billy Sunday
meeting fairly ring with it?
There is more than sentiment in the verse quoted--there is _duty_,
_loyalty_, _fidelity_. Our boys have a right to expect that nothing
untoward shall be allowed to disturb their dear ones while they are
absent, and that whatever the misfortune to themselves over there, the
welcome home will be whole-hearted and genuine.
If ever there was need of cheerful sympathy, the genuine article, it
should come forth now for distribution among the homes from which
husband, son, or brother has gone forward in defense of civilization.
One need not fear to show an interest, which is heartfelt, to any
wife, mother, father, or other relatives of an American soldier. It
is a relief to them to share their hopes and fears with friendly
neighbors. They are brave as they never were before. They are
_fortified_ by the spirit of the manly fellow who went forth to war
through the very gate you lean upon as they tell what they know.
One very dear mother, much too young in appearance to suggest the idea
of having sent a son to the front, told me as she smiled through tears
that he had _brought down two_ in a single action, but unfortunately
was forced to land on enemy soil and was made a prisoner.
“I hope they don’t starve him,” said she sweetly, “nor treat him
cruelly. He is so gentle and kindly himself. I believe they will be
good to him.”
“Of course they will,” said I, joining my hope with her own and
wishing with all my might that I could really share in her belief. Then
her wistful look changed into one of confident expectancy. I had added
to her _store of hopefulness_ and left her laughing heartily at my
prophecy that her boy would probably “_kidnap his guard some night and
ride him back to camp_.”
No doubt about her keeping the home fires burning, nor of the
strong heart within her--“_hoping, longing, calling for him_.”
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