Our Boys

        Written after the United States entered the war, fighting on the side of the Entente Allies.


        Halt! Attention! Salute the flag,
            The boys are marching by;
        They're going forth to win the war
            For us to do or die.
        Our country needed fighting men,
            Her liberty to save;
        These boys responded to the call,
            And all they had they gave.

        All loyal hearts are beating fast,
            And hope our bosoms fill;
        For liberty shall reign supreme
            O'er ocean, dale and hill.
        With no regrets for parted hopes
            Or futures cast aside,
        Our soldier boys are marching by;
            They are our country's pride.

Alan L. Strang

No biography available

Alan L. Strang

To The Reader Of This Book

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

The Lily Of The Valley

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

Wishes

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

How can we Fool the Rooster?

Alan L. Strang, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Our Soldier Boy

        Written as a tribute to my brother, W. M. Strang, with the Engineers.


        He said, "I'm Daddy's soldier boy,"
            When he was five years old;
        And then went out and built snow forts,
            Although the day was cold.

        The snowballs were his hand grenades,
            A stick his bayonette;
        And with a home-made wooden gun
            The foe he bravely met.

        In five more years he joined the "scouts"
            And hiked across the hills;
        He learned to wear a khaki suit,
            And do military drills.

        And so the years passed swiftly on,
            And now he is a man;
        He's in the trenches over there,
            Fighting for Uncle Sam.

  ...

Alan L. Strang

After The Battles Are Over

[Read at Reunion of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, 1872.]

After the battles are over,
    And the war drums cease to beat,
And no more is heard on the hillside
The sound of hurrying feet,
Full many a noble action,
    That was done in the days of strife
By the soldier is half forgotten,
    In the peaceful walks of life.

Just as the tangled grasses,
    In Summer's warmth and light,
Grow over the graves of the fallen
    And hide them away from sight,
So many an act of valour,
    And many a deed sublime,
Fade from the mind of the soldier
    O'ergrown by the grass of time

Not so should they be rewarded,
    Those noble deeds of old!
They should live for ever and ever,
    When the heroes' hearts are cold.
Then ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

After The Battles Are Over.

[Read at Re-union of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, 1872.]


After the battles are over,
    And the war drums cease to beat,
And no more is heard on the hillside
    The sound of hurrying feet,
Full many a noble action,
    That was done in the days of strife,
By the soldier is half forgotten,
    In the peaceful walks of life.

Just as the tangled grasses,
    In Summer's warmth and light,
Grow over the graves of the fallen
    And hide them away from sight,
So many an act of valor,
    And many a deed sublime,
Fade from the mind of the soldier,
    O'ergrown by the grass of time.

Not so should they be rewarded,
    Those noble deeds of old;
They should live forever and ever,
    When the heroes' hearts are cold...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

A Message to America

You have the grit and the guts, I know;
You are ready to answer blow for blow
You are virile, combative, stubborn, hard,
But your honor ends with your own back-yard;
Each man intent on his private goal,
You have no feeling for the whole;
What singly none would tolerate
You let unpunished hit the state,
Unmindful that each man must share
The stain he lets his country wear,
And (what no traveller ignores)
That her good name is often yours.

You are proud in the pride that feels its might;
From your imaginary height
Men of another race or hue
Are men of a lesser breed to you:
The neighbor at your southern gate
You treat with the scorn that has bred his hate.
To lend a spice to your disrespect
You call him the "greaser". But reflect!
The g...

Alan Seeger

Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France

(To have been read before the statue of Lafayette and Washington in Paris, on Decoration Day, May 30, 1916.)


I

Ay, it is fitting on this holiday,
Commemorative of our soldier dead,
When - with sweet flowers of our New England May
Hiding the lichened stones by fifty years made gray -
Their graves in every town are garlanded,
That pious tribute should be given too
To our intrepid few
Obscurely fallen here beyond the seas.
Those to preserve their country's greatness died;
But by the death of these
Something that we can look upon with pride
Has been achieved, nor wholly unreplied
Can sneerers triumph in the charge they make
That from a war where Freedom was at stake
America withheld and, daunted, stood aside.


II

Be the...

Alan Seeger

The Khaki Boys Who Were Not At The Front

Oh! it is not just the men who face the guns,
Not the fighters at the Front alone, to-day
Who will bring the longed-for close to the bloody fray, for those
Could not carry on that fray without the ones
Who are working at war's problems far away.

You are ALL our splendid heroes in the strife,
And we class you with the warriors maimed and scarred,
Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear,
While you laboured in the dull routine of life
In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred.

You have offered up yourselves to save the world;
You have felt the abnegation of the Christ:
And whatever work you do is a noble work and true;
Though it be not done with banners all unfurled,
You will find it has, in sight of God, sufficed.

Wh...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox