This was the gleam then that lured from far <br />Your son and my son to the Holy War: <br />Your son and my son for the accolade <br />With the banner of Christ over them, in steel arrayed. <br /> <br />All quiet roads of life ran on to this; <br />When they were little for their mother's kiss. <br />Little feet hastening, so soft, unworn, <br />To the vows and the vigil and the road of thorn. <br /> <br />Your son and my son, the downy things, <br />Sheltered in mother's breast, by mother's wings, <br />Should they be broken in the Lord's wars-Peace! <br />He Who has given them-are they not His? <br /> <br />Dream of knight's armour and the battle-shout, <br />Fighting and falling at the last redoubt, <br />Dream of long dying on the field of slain; <br />This was the dream that lured, nor lured in vain. <br /> <br />These were the Voices they heard from far; <br />Bugles and trumpets of the Holy War. <br />Your son and my son have heard the call, <br />Your son and my son have stormed the wall. <br /> <br />Your son and my son, clean as new swords; <br />Your man and my man and now the Lord's! <br />Your son and my son for the Great Crusade, <br />With the banner of Christ over them-our knights new-made.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-others/
