NOW strikes the hour upon the clock <br />The black sheep may rebuild the years <br />May lift the father's pride he broke <br />And wipe away his mother's tears. <br /> <br />To him, the mark for thrifty scorn; <br />God hath another chance to give, <br />Sets in his heart a flame new-born <br />By which his muddied soul may live. <br /> <br />This is the day of the prodigal, <br />The decent people's shame and grief, <br />When he shall make amends for all. <br />The way to Glory's bloody and brief. <br /> <br />Clean from his baptism, of blood, <br />New from the fire he springs again, <br />In shining raiment white and good, <br />Beyond the wise, home-keeping man. <br /> <br />Somewhere to-night-no tears be shed!- <br />With shaking hands they turn the sheet <br />To find his name among the dead, <br />Flower of the Army and the Fleet. <br /> <br />They tell, with proud and stricken face, <br />Of his white boyhood far away- <br />Who talked of trouble or disgrace? <br />'Our splendid son is dead!' they say.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-great-chance/
