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The anguish of the mother of the boy who goes away.
You may boast men’s deeds of glory, you may tell their courage great,
But to die is easier service than alone to sit and wait,
And I hail the little mother, with the tear-stained face and grave
Who has given the flag a soldier—she’s the bravest of the brave.
And that banner we are proud of, with its red and blue and white
Is a lasting tribute holy to all mothers’ love of right.
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