Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/18

And tossed tall torches, and arched the town in garlands of maple and pine?
All dust in the wind of a woman’s cry as she snatches from the ranks
Her boy who bears on his bold young breast the Rose of a Nation’s Thanks!

A welcome? There’s a doubt if the lads would stand like stone in their steady line
When a babe held high on a dear wife’s hands, or the stars that swim and shine
In a sweetheart’s eyes, or a mother’s smile, flashed far in the welded crowd,
Or a father’s proud voice, half-sob and half-cheer, cried on a son aloud.
O the billows of waiting hearts that swelled would sweep from the martial ranks
The gallant boys who bear on their breasts the Rose of a Nation’s Thanks!

A welcome? O Joy, can they stay your feet, or measure the wine of your bliss?
O Joy, let them have you alone to-day-a day with a pulse like this!
A welcome? Yes, ’tis a tender thought, a green laurel that laps the sword-
But Joy has the wing of a wild white swan, and the song of a free wild bird!
She must beat the air with her wing at will, at will must her song be driven
From her heaving heart and tremulous throat through the awful arch of heaven.
And what would ye have? There isn’t a lad will burst from the shouting ranks
But bears like a star on his faded coat the Rose of a Nation’s Thanks!