Page:Book Of Halloween(1919).djvu/50

"Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country,

Was it not all to save
Harvest of bread?—Harvest of men?

And the bright years, wave on wave?

"Search not, search not, my way-worn;

Search neither weald nor wave.
One is their heavy reaping-time

To the earth, that is one wide grave."

Marks: All Soul's Eve.