HELLO, BOYS!

BY

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

LONDON

GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.

1919

All rights reserved

p. ivN.B.—The only volumes of my Poems issues with my approval in the British Empire are published by Messrs. Gay & Hancock.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

p. vFORWARD

The greater part of these verses dealing with the war were written in France during my recent seven months’ sojourn there, and for the purpose of using in entertainments given in camps and hospitals to thousands of American soldiers.

They were the result of coming into close contact with the soldiers’ mind and heart, and were intentionally expressed in the simplest manner, without any consideration of methods approved by modern critics. The fact that I have been asked to autograph scores of copies of many of these verses (and one of them to the extent of 350 copies) is more gratifying to me than would be the highest encomiums of the purely literary critic.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

London, October 1918.

p. viiCONTENTS

PAGE

Thanksgiving

1

The Brave Highland Laddies

3

Men of the Sea

6

Ode to the British Fleet

9

The German Fleet

11

Deep unto deep was calling

12

The Song of the Allies

14

Ten thousand men a day

16

“America will not turn back”

18

War

20

The Hour

23

The Message

25

“Flowers of France”

29

Our Atlas

34

Camp Followers

37

Come Back Clean

39

Camouflage

41

The Awakening

42

The Khaki Boys who were not at the Front

44

Time’s Hymn of Hate

46

Dear Motherland of France

48

The Spirit of Great Joan

50

Speak

52

The Girl of the U.S.A.

54

p. viiiPassing the Buck

56

Song of the Aviator

57

The Stevedores

59

A Song of Home

61

The Swan of Dijon

73

Veils

65

In France I saw a Hill

68

American Boys, Hello!

70

De Rochambeau

72

After

74

The Blasphemy of Guns

75

The Crimes of Peace

78

It May Be

82

Then and Now

85

Widows

89

Conversation

93

I, too

97

He that hath ears

99

Answers

101

How is it?

104

‘Let us give thanks’

107

The Black Sheep

109

One by one

112

Prayer

114

Be not Dismayed

116

Ascension

118

The Deadliest Sin

121

The Rainbow of Promise

124

They shall not win

126

p. 1THANKSGIVING

Thanksgiving for the strong armed day, That lifted war’s red curse, When Peace, that lordly little word, Was uttered in a voice that stirred— Yea, shook the Universe.

Thanksgiving for the Mighty Hour That brimmed the Victor’s cup, When England signalled to the foe, ‘The German flag must be brought low And not again hauled up!’

Thanksgiving for the sea and air Free from the Devil’s might! Thanksgiving that the human race Can lift once more a rev’rent face, And say, ‘God helps the Right.’

p. 2Thanksgiving for our men who came In Heaven-protected ships, The waning tide of hope to swell, With ‘Lusitania’ and ‘Cavell’ As watchwords on their lips.

Thanksgiving that our splendid dead, All radiant with youth, Dwell near to us—there is no death. Thanksgiving for the broad new faith That helps us know this truth.

p. 3THE BRAVE HIGHLAND LADDIES

I had seen our splendid soldiers in their khaki uniforms, And their leaders with a Sam Brown belt; I had seen the fighting Britons and Colonials in swarms, I had seen the blue-clad Frenchmen, and I felt That the mighty martial show Had no new sight to bestow, Till I walked on Piccadilly, and my word! By the bonnie Highland laddies In their kilts and their plaidies, To a wholly new sensation I was stirred.

They were like some old-time picture, or a scene from out a play, They were stalwart, they were young, and debonnair; p. 4Their jaunty little caps they wore in such a fetching way, And they showed their handsome legs, and didn’t care— And they seemed to own the town As they strode on up and down— Oh, they surely were a sight for tired eyes! Those braw, bonnie laddies In their kilts and their plaidies, And I stared at them with pleasure and surprise.

I had read about the valour of old Scotland’s warrior sons— How they fought to a finish, or else fell; I had heard the name bestowed on them by agitated Huns, Who called these skirted soldiers ‘Dames of Hell’; And I gave them right of way On their London holiday, As I met them swinging down the street and Strand, Those bonnie, bonnie laddies In their kilts and their plaidies, And I breathed a blessing on them and their land

p. 5Now the world is all rejoicing that the end of war has come— And no heart is any gladder than my own, That the brutal, blatant voices of the guns at last are dumb, And the Dove of Peace from out her cage has flown. Yet, when men no more march by, Making pictures for the eye, There’s a vital dash of colour earth will lack, When the brave Highland laddies Drop their kilts and their plaidies, And return to common clothes of grey or black!

p. 6MEN OF THE SEA

Many the songs of the brave boys sent Over The Top in the battle’s thunder; But mine is the song of the men who went Over the top of the waves—and under.

Men of the sea, Men of the sea, I lift mine eyes to the Flags unfurled— The Flags of Victory blowing free Over the new-born world. And I cry ‘Thank God! these things can be! Thank God, and the Men of the Sea!’

Little it matters to what they belong, Marine or Navy—or Merchant Ship— To the Men of the Sea I sing my song; A song that rises from heart to lip.

p. 7I sing of the valour that ploughed a path Straight through the snares of a crafty foe, Through billows raging with wintry wrath, And over the dens of the devils below.

To the splendid heroes of Jutland Bank And the Royal Navy I give their due; And cheek by jowl with them all, I rank The brave mine-sweepers and merchant crew.

Trawler—Drifter—or English Fleet— All are manned by the Men of the Sea, And all together in my heart meet, For a boat is a boat to the mind of me.

And who ever over the dread seas fared, And however humble his work or place, To the great Christ spirit must be compared— Since he offered his life for the good of the race.

And how many lie in the deep-sea bed, No man can reckon, and no man number; But not one Soul of them all is dead, For death is only the body’s slumber.

p. 8And the Men of the Mist, who from dark to dawn On the deck or the bridge stand guard at night, Oft feel the presence of comrades gone Who keep watch with them, though veiled from sight.

Many the songs of the brave boys sent Over The Top in the battle’s thunder; But mine is the song of the men who went Over the top of the waves—and under.

p. 9ODE TO THE BRITISH FLEET

‘Invisible and silent’—Mystery Surrounded that great Guardian of the Sea. That Father—Mother—of the mighty main. While loud in valley and on field and hill— And over anguished plain The battles thundered. God himself is still And hidden from men’s view; and it were meet That this subliminal force Should move in utter silence on its course Invisible—Inaudible—till that hour When Time, Fate’s Minister, should speak and say— ‘Come forth! and show thy power!’ When Time commands, even the gods obey.

‘Invisible and silent’; yet the foe Was driven from the Sea. All impotent The brazen braggart went. While commerce sent her brave ships to and fro; p. 10And from Columbia’s shores there sailed away Ten thousand men a day— Ten thousand men a day! who reached their goals Bringing new courage to war-weary souls.

Oh, silent wonder of the noisy sea! Though alien, with the blood of Bunker Hill Down filtering through my veins, the heart of me Seems with a mingled love and awe to fill And overflow at thought of that sublime, Unparalleled large hour of Time; When bloodless Victory saw the foes’ flag furled— That insolent menace to a righteous world.

Great Britain’s Fleet unshaken in its might, Proclaimed itself again in all men’s sight The Mistress of the Main. Fair Freedom’s friend, May peace and glory on thy path attend.

p. 11THE GERMAN FLEET

Lie down, and let the billows hide your shame, Oh, shorn and naked outcast of the seas! You who confided to each ocean breeze Your coming conquests, and made loud acclaim Of your own grandeur and exalted fame; You who have catered to they world’s disease; You who have drunk hate’s wine, and found the lees; Lie down! and let all men forget your name!

You dreamed of world dominion! you! the spawn Of hell and hatred—Foe to all things free— Sworn enemy to honour, truth and right; Too poor a thing now for the Devil’s pawn, Let the large mercy of the outraged sea Engulf and hide you evermore from sight.

p. 12DEEP UNTO DEEP WAS CALLING

They rode through the bannered city— The King and the Commoner, And the hopes of the world were with them, And the heart of the world was astir. For the moss-grown walls seemed falling That have shut away men from Kings; And Deep unto Deep was calling For the coming of greater things.

They rode to an age-old Palace Where the feet of the Mighty go— (A Palace that stands unshaken Despite the boast of the foe!) And the King from Kings descending— And the Man of the People’s choice In a Super-Man seemed blending, And they spoke as with one voice.

p. 13And one voice now and for ever Will speak from sea to sea, Wherever the British Banner And the Starry Flag float free. For our fettering chains are sundered By the evil that turned to good, And Deep unto Deep has thundered Its message of Brotherhood.

It was not a pageant of Victors— Or a triumph hour of man, That ride through the bannered City, It was part of a Mighty Plan; And the sound of old barriers falling Rose there where those Rulers trod, For Deep unto Deep was calling In the resonant Voice of God.

p. 14THE SONG OF THE ALLIES

We are the Allies of God to-day, And the width of the earth is our right of way. Let no man question or ask us why, As we speed to answer a wild world cry; Let no man hinder or ask us where, As out over water and land we fare; For whether we hurry, or whether we wait, We follow the finger of guiding fate.

We are the Allies. We differ in faith, But are one in our courage at thought of death. Many and varied the tongues we speak, But one and the same is the goal we seek. And the goal we seek is not power or place, But the peace of the world, and the good of the race. And little matters the colour of skin, When each heart under it beats to win.

p. 15We are the Allies; we fight or fly, We wallow in trenches like pigs in a sty, We dive under water to foil a foe, We wait in quarters, or rise and go. And staying or going, or near or far, One thought is ever our guiding star: We are the Allies of God to-day, We are the Allies—make way! make way!