| George Herbert Clarke, ed. (18731953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917. |
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| 19. Vive la France! |
| | | By Charlotte Holmes Crawford |
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| FRANCELINE rose in the dawning gray, | |
| And her heart would dance though she knelt to pray, | |
| For her man Michel had holiday, | |
| Fighting for France. | |
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| She offered her prayer by the cradle-side, | 5 |
| And with baby palms folded in hers she cried: | |
| If I have but one prayer, dear, crucified | |
| Christsave France! | |
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| But if I have two, then, by Marys grace, | |
| Carry me safe to the meeting-place, | 10 |
| Let me look once again on my dear loves face, | |
| Save him for France! | |
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| She crooned to her boy: Oh, how glad hell be, | |
| Little three-months old, to set eyes on thee! | |
| For, Rather than gold, would I give, wrote he, | 15 |
| A son to France. | |
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| Come, now, be good, little stray sauterelle, | |
| For were going by-by to thy papa Michel, | |
| But Ill not say where for fear thou wilt tell, | |
| Little pigeon of France! | 20 |
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| Six days leave and a year between! | |
| But what would you have? In six days clean, | |
| Heaven was made, said Franceline, | |
| Heaven and France. | |
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| She came to the town of the nameless name, | 25 |
| To the marching troops in the street she came, | |
| And she held high her boy like a taper flame | |
| Burning for France. | |
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| Fresh from the trenches and gray with grime, | |
| Silent they march like a pantomime; | 30 |
| But what need of music? My heart beats time | |
| Vive la France! | |
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| His regiment comes. Oh, then where is he? | |
| There is dust in my eyes, for I cannot see, | |
| Is that my Michel to the right of thee, | 35 |
| Soldier of France? | |
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| Then out of the ranks a comrade fell, | |
| Yesterdayt was a splinter of shell | |
| And he whispered thy name, did thy poor Michel, | |
| Dying for France. | 40 |
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| The tread of the troops on the pavement throbbed | |
| Like a womans heart of its last joy robbed, | |
| As she lifted her boy to the flag, and sobbed: | |
| Vive la France! | |
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