The rivers of France sing soft as they run, But five have a song of their own, That hymns the fall of the arrogant one And the proud cast down from his throne.
The rivers of France all quietly take To sleep in the house of their birth, But the carnadined wave of five shall break On the uttermost strands of Earth.
Five rivers of France, see their names are writ On a banner of crimson and gold, And the glory of those who fashioned it Shall nevermore cease to be told.
IN THE STARS AND STRIPES, A. E. F., FRANCE
Standin’ up here on the fire-step, Lookin’ ahead in the mist, With a tin hat over your ivory And a rifle clutched in your fist; Waitin’ and watchin’ and wond’rin’ If the Hun’s comin’ over tonight-- Say, aren’t the things you think of Enough to give you a fright?
Things you ain’t even thought of For a couple o’ months or more; Things that ’ull set you laughin’, Things that ’ull make you sore; Things that you saw in the movies, Things that you saw on the street, Things that you’re really proud of Things that are--not so sweet;
Debts that are past collectin’, Stories you hear and forget, Ball games and birthday parties, Hours of drill in the wet; Headlines, recruitin’ posters, Sunset ’way out at sea, Evenings of pay-days--golly-- It’s a queer thing, this memory!
Faces of pals in Homeburg, Voices of womenfolk, Verses you learnt in schooldays Pop up in the mist and smoke As you stand there grippin’ that rifle, A-starin’, and chilled to the bone, Wonderin’ and wonderin’ and wonderin’, Just thinkin’ there--all alone:
When will the war be over? When will the gang break through? What will the U. S. look like? What will there be to do? Where will the Boches be then? Who will have married Nell? When’s the relief a-comin’ up?-- Gosh! But this thinkin’s hell!
The evening star a child espied, The one star in the sky. “Is that God’s service flag?” he cried, And waited for reply.
The mother paused a moment ere She told the little one-- “Yes, that is why the star is there! God gave His only Son!”
Boy in khaki, boy in blue, I am watching over you, Going forth amid the rattle Of the drums that call to battle.
Oft have men waged fight for me, Fought to make their brothers free; God protect and succor you, Boy in khaki, boy in blue.