From The Seattle Star, November 18, 1912. By Berton Braley. I have heartened your soul for battle, I have turned your face to the fray, I have stirred your blood to a seething flood with many a valiant lay; I have made your songs of conflict and slogans to lead you on, I have chanted you forth to victory when all your hope was gone. You march to the beat of songs I sing, they comfort your sleep at night And yet you call me a weakling soul because I do not fight! If I go forth to the battle field and join in the conflict there I am only one of a thousand men who does his little share But the songs I make in my sheltered tent as I toil with brain and pen Are the breath that fans the fighting flame in the hearts of a thousand men. And, though I take not to the field or stand in the battle line The word that carries the warriors on to victory is mine! I have lifted your souls from fell defeat to battle again—and win I have sounded a clarion call of faith amid the fighting din What matters it if my hand is weak when I make ten thousand strong By the thrill of a magic chant of words and the rhythm of a song? I keep the private’s courage high, the captain’s eyes alight— And yet you call me a weakling soul because I do not fight!