THE TRUMPET CALL
Permission of the author
I dreamed last night of the trumpet-call:
"Come over and help us across the sea,
Come over and help us, brothers all,
We fight for justice and liberty!"
But my couch was soft and my comforts dear,
And the ones I loved had naught to fear,
So I sent this answer across the sea:
"The sons of France shall fight for me,
Russia's arms and the British fleet
Will shelter me in my safe retreat,
Italy's brave are in the field,
And Canada's troops will never yield."
Again in the darkness I heard a call:
"Come over and help us in the fight,
For the cause of freedom we give our all,
In the name of honor and truth and right!"
But my heart was sick with desperate strife,
And I clung to peace as this nation's life.
So I sent my answer across the sea:
"The sons of France shall die for me,
Russia's arms and the British fleet,
Will guard this nation against defeat,
Italy's troops are staunch and strong,
And Belgium's faith shall conquer wrong."
