Classic Poem

The thin rain was falling, the winter wind cold.
The woman was worried and fragile and old,
Her boy walked beside her with purposeful pride,
Though all he possessed in a kit bag was tied.

The gateway was narrow, the turnstile was hard,
As through it they hurried toward the camp yard,
They enter it wordless, the boy does not speak,
The woman is silent and pallid her cheek.

“Goodbye now dear Mother, get out of the rain,
Cheer up and don't bother, I'll come back again.”
I saw her form shiver and heard the soft moan,
“God keep my heart beating until he is gone.”

She thought of the Allies, she thought of the Hun,
She thought of the battles, the lost and the won,
Then turned his dear picture with face to the wall,
And over his bookcase a curtain let fall.

Then sank on her knees with a face glory lit,
Gave thanks to her God that her brave boy was fit.