A SOLDIER'S LETTER 1 ALAN SEEGER Alan Seeger (1888-1916) left the shores of America in 1912 never to return home. Before then he had spent his boyhood within sight of New York City, had travelled in Mexico and throughout the United States, and had gained his degree from Harvard University. In 1914 he joined the Foreign Legion of France and entered the Great War an American citizen, but unwilling to await the entry of his own country in the fight for human liberty. On July 4, 1916, he fell in action in the village of Belloy-enSanterre, leaving behind only a sheaf of noble poems and a few letters. On June 18, 1915, he wrote to his mother: You must not be anxious about my not coming back. The chances are about ten to one that I will. But if I should not, you must be proud, like a Spartan mother, and feel that it is your contribution to the triumph of the cause whose righteousness you feel so keenly. Everybody should take a part in this struggle which is to have so decisive an effect, not only on the nations engaged but on all humanity. There should be no neutrals, but everyone should bear some part of the burden. If so large a part should fall to your share, you would be in so far superior to other women and should be correspondingly proud. There would be nothing to regret, for I could not have done otherwise than what I did, and I think I could not have done better. Death is 1 From Alan Seeger's Letters and Diary. Published with permission of, and by special arrangement with the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons. nothing terrible after all. It may mean something even more wonderful than life. It cannot possibly mean anything worse to the good soldier. AMERICA RESURGENT1 WENDELL PHILLIPS STAFFORD Wendell Phillips Stafford (1861-) is only an occasional writer of verse. For over twenty years he has served his country as a jurist, being now Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of Washington, D. C. These lines praise America for breaking off diplomatic relations with Germany and thus becoming an active participant in the Great War. SHE is risen from the dead! Loose the tongue and lift the head; Bound with iron and with gold- The prison walls Tumble, and the bolts are broken! 1 Used by permission of the author. Hail her! She is ours again- Cheer her! She is free at last, And a helmet full of stars! THE ROAD TO FRANCE1 DANIEL M. HENDERSON In the spring of 1917 a prize of two hundred and fifty dollars was offered by the National Arts Club of New York City for the best patriotic poem. Mr. Henderson's stirring song was chosen from some four thousand entries. THANK God, our liberating lance 1 Used by permission of the National Arts Club, To fight and die for God and man! To France - with every race and breed That hates Oppression's brutal creed! Ah, France, how could our hearts forget How could the haze of doubt hang low No beacon lighting just our shores, Allies, you have not called in vain; Into that hell his will creates We drive the foe-his lusts, his hates. |