<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">Missing</h1><p class="byline"> "IRIS" <br xmlns:exist="http://exist.sourceforge.net/NS/exist" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"/><span class="smallcaps">From B. L. T.'s Column IN The Chicago Tribune</span></p><div class="stanza"><p class="line">THE soldier boys are marching, are marching past my door;</p><p class="line">They're off to fight for Freedom, to wage and win the war;</p><p class="line">And yet I cannot cheer them, my eyes are full of tears--</p><p class="line">My son, who should be with them, is dead these many years.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I've missed his boyish laughter, I've missed his sunny ways,</p><p class="line">I've lived alone with sorrow through endless empty days.</p><p class="line">But now my bitter longing dims all the grief before--</p><p class="line">His boyhood friends are marching, without him, past my door.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">I've envied happy mothers the children at their knee;</p><p class="line">Their very joys seemed given to mock my grief and me.</p><p class="line">Time healed those wounds, but this one will pain me while I live--</p><p class="line">When Freedom called her warriors, I had no son to give.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And still the boys are marching, are marching toward the sea,</p><p class="line">To suffer and to conquer, that all men may be free.</p><p class="line">Be glad for them, O mothers! and leave to me the tears--</p><p class="line">My son, who should be with them, is dead these many years. </p></div></body></html> · Great War