Woman

Here's to the soldier and his arms,
    Fall in, men, fall in;
Here's to woman and her arms,
    Fall in, men, fall in!

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DX. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. DCLI. Relics.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. LI. Tales.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCLVII. Games.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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Woman

Here's to the ladies, the good, young ladies;
But not too good, for the good die young,
And we want no dead ones.
And here's to the good old ladies,
But not too old, for we want no dyed ones.

Unknown

War Mothers

There is something in the sound of drum and fife
That stirs all the savage instincts into life.

In the old times of peace we went our ways,
Through proper days
Of little joys and tasks.    Lonely at times,
When from the steeple sounded wedding chimes,
Telling to all the world some maid was wife -
But taking patiently our part in life
As it was portioned us by Church and State,
Believing it our fate.
    Our thoughts all chaste
Held yet a secret wish to love and mate
    Ere youth and virtue should go quite to waste.
But men we criticised for lack of strength,
And kept them at arm's length.
Then the war came -
The world was all aflame!
The men we had thought dull and void of power
Were heroes in an hour.
He who had seemed a slave to petty g...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Fall In, My Men, Fall In

The short hour's halt is ended,
The red gone from the west,
The broken wheel is mended,
And the dead men laid to rest.
Three days have we retreated
The brave old Curse-and-Grin,
Outnumbered and defeated,
Fall in, my men, fall in.

Poor weary, hungry sinners,
Past caring and past fear,
The camp-fires of the winners
Are gleaming in the rear.
Each day their front advances,
Each day the same old din,
But freedom holds the chances,
Fall in, my men, fall in.

Despair's cold fingers searches
The sky is black ahead,
We leave in barns and churches
Our wounded and our dead.
Through cold and rain and darkness
And mire that clogs like sin,
In failure in its starkness,
Fall in, my men, fall in.

We go and know not whit...

Henry Lawson

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

Woman

Strange are the ways that her feet have trod
    Since first she was set in the path of duty,
Finished and fair by the hand of God,
    To carry her message of love and beauty.
Delicate creature of light and shade,
    She gleamed like an opal, on wide worlds under:
And earth looked up to her half afraid,
    While heaven looked down at her, full of wonder.

Flame of the comet and mist of the moon,
    And ray of the sun all mingled in her.
And the heart of her asked but a single boon -
    That love should seek her, and find her, and win her.
She grasped the scope of the First Intent
    That made her kingdom FOR HER, no other,
And joyfully into her place she went -
    The primal mate, and the primal mother.

Large was that kingdom and vast her sph...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox