The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 80a
The Call of Mother England
The Call of Mother England.
Listen! Across the languor of our peace
There breaks a sudden voice—'tis England calls:
"Come to my help, O stalwart sons of mine!
When ye were weaklings, I protected ye,
And now I ask for hearts and nerves of steel
To guard my Empire from th' insolent foe."
* * * *
O, Mother England, we are mothers too,
But, though our heart-strings break to let them go—
The lads that climbed our knees and kissed our lips—
We send our sons to aid thee. We must needs
Hold back our tears and hush the choking sob,
As tenderly we gaze upon our boys
Who, but a year ago, at desk or farm,
Knew not the thrill of Mother England's call.
Sure in our women lives the Spartan still,
For with wet eyes, yet hearts aflame with pride,
They bid their men go forth to distant lands
To fight for honour, justice, and the right.