Linden Lane

HOLY CROSS: MAY, 1917

(For Major Joseph W. O'Connor, '03)


Birds are merry and the buds
Come along with May:
Lonely is the linden land
For lads that went today.

What calls the May of song
But the fair young spring?
Heard our boys another tune
Sterner voices sing.

Bugles blew by land and sea,
And the tocsin drum;
See, brave hearts go down the hill,
Shouting, "Hail, we come."

From the towers that show the Cross,
Staunch the Flag waved out,
And the royal Purple shook
Joyous with the shout.

Heigh-ho! And a lusty cheer,
Down the linden lane:
The pine grove looked but cannot tell
If they'll come home again.

Few may take the homeward road
When the war is done:
Where they fall or when they come,
Hail, to the cause they won.

Till the buds and the merry birds
Come another May,
Cross and Flag aloft shall bless
Brave lads who went today.

Michael Earls

Michael Earls, born on November 2, 1875, and died on November 7, 1937, was an American poet, playwright, and Jesuit priest. He was a prolific writer, contributing to numerous American periodicals and magazines. His works often explored themes of faith, nature, and human experience. He was known for his engaging style and profound insights into spirituality and everyday life. Earls had a significant influence on Catholic literature in America during the early 20th century.

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English

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The Towers Of Holy Cross

(For W. M. Letts)


The roads look up to Holy Cross,
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And show a kindly word to all
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The gallant towers at Holy Cross
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And mine are gone, says Beaven Hall,
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Off To The War

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In a little ship and down the bay,
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A young brave lad sailed off today,
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With arms of faith and hope well-wrought
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Older than Rhodes and Ascalon
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War In The North

Not from Mars and not from Thor
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Many months we waited for
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All our loyal brave allies
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A Song

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June of the trees in glory,
June of the meadows gay!
O, and it works a story
To tell an October day.

Blooms of the apple and cherry
Toil for the far-off hours;
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In song of the garden bowers.

Brooks to the sea from mountains,
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For oh, when the war will be over
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When meadows are laughing with flow'rs;
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For they cry to us: 'Friends, we are lonely,
A-weary the night and the day;
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Come when our graves will be gay:
When daffodils all are a-blowing,
And larks are a-thrilling the skies,
Oh, come with the hearts of you glowing,
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The Green Brigade

ON THE FIELD OF CORN



Where is the war ye march unto,
From the early tents of morn?
And what are the deeds ye hope to do,
Brave Grenadiers of Corn?
Pearls of the dew are on your hair,
And the jewels of morning light,
Pennants of green ye fling to the air,
And the tall plumes waving bright.

Gaily away and steady ye go,
Never a faltering line:
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Word of your countersign:
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Eagerly watch your plan,
Lavish with bribes of gold, they run
Down to your outmost man.

Steady, good lads, go bravely on
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