'What's the news? Now tell it me.' <br />'Allenby again advances.' <br />'No, it is not Allenby <br />But my boy, straight as a lance is. <br /> <br />'Oh, my boy it is that runs, <br />Hurls his young and slender body <br />On the dread death-dealing guns. <br />Oh, he's down! his head is bloody!' <br /> <br />'Haig's offensive has begun.' <br />'Say not Haig's nor any other, <br />Since it is my one sweet son <br />In the gases' risk and smother. <br /> <br />'He is taken by the throat, <br />In the bursting flame will quiver, <br />He the billet for all shot, <br />He the shell's objective ever.' <br /> <br />So not Allenby nor Haig, <br />But her darling goes to battle. <br />All the world's red mist and vague <br />Shattered by the scream and rattle. <br /> <br />Just one slender shape she sees, <br />One bright head tossed hither, thither; <br />Oh, if he goes down the seas <br />Whelm her and the world together!<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/any-mother/
