h.e.l.lo, Boys!

by Ella Wheeler Wilc.o.x.

FORWARD

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 Wilc.o.x London, October 1918.

THANKSGIVING

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, 'G.o.d helps the Right.'

Thanksgiving 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.

THE 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; Their 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 h.e.l.l'; 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

Now 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!

MEN 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 G.o.d! these things can be!

Thank G.o.d, 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.

I 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.

And 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.

ODE 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. G.o.d 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 G.o.ds 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; And from Columbia's sh.o.r.es 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.

THE GERMAN FLEET