Tag: McLandburgh Wilson

From The Sun, December 27, 1914. By McLandburgh Wilson.

There are columns to be riven
    In the very face of hell,
And the wild dumb beasts are driven
    To their doom of shot and shell.
But above the shriek of battle
    And the chargers’ dying woe
Sounds the lowing of the cattle
    In a manger long ago.

There is midnight on the nations,
    There is hate instead of love.
And the guns’ reverberations
    Shake the vaulted skies above.
But beyond the thunders ringing
    As the foe replies to foe
We can hear the angels singing
    On a midnight long ago.

From The Sun, September 13, 1914. By McLandburgh Wilson.

Europe’s lands are filled with soldiers,
    Only one is safe and nigh;
Go to sleep, my little baby,
    Ere the bolts of battle fly
And destroy the magic country
    Where the Sand Man’s beaches lie.
        Hushaby!

Europe’s clouds are filled with fighting,
    Only one is safe to try;
Go to sleep, my little baby,
    Ere the navies of the sky
Shall destroy the sunset towers
    Marking Sleepytown on high.
        Hushaby!

Europe’s seas are red with conquest,
    Only one no foe may spy;
Go to sleep, my little baby,
    Ere the warships grim reply
And awake the drowsy waters
    Where the Slumber sea makes sigh.
        Hushaby!

From The Sun, August 7, 1914. By McLandburgh Wilson.

Germans and Austrians turn on the world,
    Sounding their battle alarms;
English, French, Russians and Serbs are all hurled
    Crushing the others in arms.
Still is a greater alliance that sweeps
    Leading forever the van;
One that includes every woman who weeps,
    One that includes every man.

Soldiers shall rot in the land of the foe;
    Widows shall sorrow forlorn;
Babes shall come into a world full of woe
    Orphaned before they are born.
This is the triple alliance that bears
    Brunt of the carnage so wild;
Greatest, most ancient of all earth’s affairs,
    Father and mother and child.

From The Sun, August 2, 1914. By McLandburgh Wilson.

This earth is as a mighty drum
    Upon which beat the strokes of Fate,
While countermarching go and come
    The forces which decide our state.

Advance! and Science, Letters, Art
    Press forward, gaining every field;
Their banners conquer every heart
    And unknown foes before them yield.

Retreat! and dark barbaric hordes
    Enwrap all learning in a pall,
And Progress sinks beneath their swords
    As Greece and Rome were fain to fall.

Thus victory with each is cast,
    The endless battle never won,
Until upon the Drum at last
    Shall beat the Dirge and all be done.

From The Sun, February 8, 1914. By McLandburgh Wilson.

Four little flames, each burning clear,
Set out to choose a life career.

One said: “Within a church I’ll burn
And thought of men to heaven turn.”

One said: “I’ll in a lighthouse bide
And ships upon the ocean guide.”

One said: “A scholar’s lamp I’ll be
And knowledge shall be spread by me.”

One said: “Upon a hearth I’ll glow
Where only two or three may know.”

Time snuffed the altar candle out,
But other faiths still conquered doubt.

The beacon into darkness fell
But ships had compass, horn and bell.

The scholar’s light went out, but then
He still could learn from life and men.

But when the hearthflame ash was cold
All earth no substitute could hold.

From The Sun, October 23, 1913. By McLandburgh Wilson.

    Said Get to Give,
    “You could not live
If it were not for me;
    I first must fill
    The purse you spill;
Am I not Charity?”

    Said Give to Get,
    “I lead you yet,
Blind fool, do you not see
    The alms you strew
    Were given you
In greater charity?”