"My Son," Ada Tyrrell

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My Son

Here is his little cambric frock

That I laid by in lavender so sweet,

And here his tiny shoe and sock

I made with loving care for his dear feet.

I fold the frock across my breast,

And in imagination, ah, my sweet,

Once more I hush my babe to rest,

And once again I warm those little feet.

Where do those strong young feet now stand?
In flooded trench, half numb to cold or pain,
Or marching through the desert sand
To some dread place that they may never gain.

G...