Fifty Years & Other Poems/The Young Warrior
The Young Warrior
Mother, shed no mournful tears,But gird me on my sword;And give no utterance to thy fears,But bless me with thy word.
The lines are drawn! The fight is on!A cause is to be won!Mother, look not so white and wan;Give Godspeed to thy son.
Now let thine eyes my way pursueWhere'er my footsteps fare;And when they lead beyond thy view,Send after me a prayer.
But pray not to defend from harm,Nor danger to dispel;Pray, rather, that with steadfast armI fight the battle well.
Pray, mother of mine, that I always keepMy heart and purpose strong,My sword unsullied and ready to leapUnsheathed against the wrong.