Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3827/To the Shirker: A Last Appeal

by Owen Seaman

TO THE SHIRKER: A LAST APPEAL.

Now of your free choice, while the chance is yours
 To share their glory who have gladly died
Shielding the honour of our island shores
 And that fair heritage of starry pride,—
Now, ere another evening's shadow falls,
   Come, for the trumpet calls.

What if to-morrow through the land there runs
 This message for an everlasting stain?—
"England expected each of all her sons
 To do his duty—but she looked in vain;
Now she demands, by order sharp and swift,
   What should have been a gift."

For so it must be, if her manhood fail
 To stand by England in her deadly need;
If still her wounds are but an idle tale
 The word must issue which shall make you heed;
And they who left her passionate pleas unheard
   Will have to hear that word.

And, losing your free choice, you also lose
 Your right to rank, on Memory's shining scrolls,
With those, your comrades, who made haste to choose
 The willing service asked of loyal souls;
From all who gave such tribute of the heart
   Your name will stand apart.

I think you cannot know what meed of shame
 Shall be their certain portion who pursue
Pleasure "as usual" while their country's claim
 Is answered only by the gallant few.
Come, then, betimes, and on her altar lay
   Your sacrifice to-day!
O. S.

 

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