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| THIS was the gleam then that lured from far | |
| Your son and my son to the Holy War: | |
| Your son and my son for the accolade | |
| With the banner of Christ over them, in steel arrayed. | |
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| All quiet roads of life ran on to this; | 5 |
| When they were little for their mother’s kiss. | |
| Little feet hastening, so soft, unworn, | |
| To the vows and the vigil and the road of thorn. | |
| |
| Your son and my son, the downy things, | |
| Sheltered in mother’s breast, by mother’s wings, | 10 |
| Should they be broken in the Lord’s wars—Peace! | |
| He Who has given them—are they not His? | |
| |
| Dream of knight’s armour and the battle-shout, | |
| Fighting and falling at the last redoubt, | |
| Dream of long dying on the field of slain; | 15 |
| This was the dream that lured, nor lured in vain. | |
| |
| These were the Voices they heard from far; | |
| Bugles and trumpets of the Holy War. | |
| Your son and my son have heard the call, | |
| Your son and my son have stormed the wall. | 20 |
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| Your son and my son, clean as new swords; | |
| Your man and my man and now the Lord’s! | |
| Your son and my son for the Great Crusade, | |
| With the banner of Christ over them—our knights new-made. | |
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