Читать книгу Patriotic pieces from the Great War - Edna D. Jones - Страница 14

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THEN GIVE US WINGS

If wings will help our men to see

Some Boche's belching battery,

Unloosing from a screen of trees

Its screeching death upon the breeze—

Or help our giant guns to search

With truer aim each hidden perch

Of Teuton guns, and make them meek,

Ere they again may chance to speak—

If wings, O God, will do these things,

Then give us wings.

If great, destroying wings might stay

Munitions in their hurried way,

Or hold a reënforcement back

By dropping ruin on its track,

Or yet set free the pent-up hell

Of depots filled with shot and shell,

Or swiftly give eternal sleep

To ships that prowl the nether deep—

If wings, O God, will do these things,

Then give us wings and still more wings.

If fast, avenging wings might cast

On German cities such a blast

Of desolating death and pain

​As fell again and still again

On England's homes—and thus awake

The heart of pity—and so make

An end to killing mothers, wives,

And maiming helpless infant lives—

If wings, O God, will do these things,

Then give us wings, and wings and wings

And still more wings.

If dauntless, daring wings that dash

O'er No-Man's Land, with shot and crash,

Might beat back wings that would assail

Advancing armies with their hail—

If dauntless wings like these that ride

O'er No-Man's Land, might turn the tide

Of great offensive—bring about

Allied success and Teuton rout—

If wings, O God, will do these things,

Then give us wings and wings and wings

Devouring wings that cleave and soar,

And yet more wings and more and more!

If multitudes of wings might rise

To blind aggression's lustful eyes,

And render powerless every stroke

That seeks to force the tyrant's yoke—

If multitudes of wings might give

​Democracy a chance to live,

And make this bloody carnage cease,

And bring to earth a lasting peace—

If wings, O God, will do these things,

Then give us wings, and wings and wings,

And still more wings arrayed to smite

Till Vict'ry come—the hosts of light

Beneath the sun, whose pinions shine

Beyond our farthest battle line!

—Anthony Euwer