George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917.
Charlotte Holmes Crawford
Vive la France!
F
And her heart would dance though she knelt to pray,
For her man Michel had holiday,
Fighting for France.
And with baby palms folded in hers she cried:
“If I have but one prayer, dear, crucified
Christ—save France!
Carry me safe to the meeting-place,
Let me look once again on my dear love’s face,
Save him for France!”
Little three-months old, to set eyes on thee!
For, ‘Rather than gold, would I give,’ wrote he,
‘A son to France.’
For we’re going by-by to thy papa Michel,
But I’ll not say where for fear thou wilt tell,
Little pigeon of France!
But what would you have? In six days clean,
Heaven was made,” said Franceline,
“Heaven and France.”
To the marching troops in the street she came,
And she held high her boy like a taper flame
Burning for France.
Silent they march like a pantomime;
“But what need of music? My heart beats time—
Vive la France!”
“There is dust in my eyes, for I cannot see,—
Is that my Michel to the right of thee,
Soldier of France?”
“Yesterday—’t was a splinter of shell—
And he whispered thy name, did thy poor Michel,
Dying for France.”
Like a woman’s heart of its last joy robbed,
As she lifted her boy to the flag, and sobbed:
Vive la France!”