November 1915: A Poem – Christmas 1915

How sadly ends the short November day,
The skies are gray,
And far away
Our brave ones fight, and aching hearts still pray
O Lord! When shall all discord cease?
When dawn the day of peace?
And tears be wiped away.

They rest in peace, those Sons that mothers gave
England to save,
Through tears that lave,
And cleanse our land! But still we crave
O Lord, make discords cease,
Bring in the day of peace,
Save, Lord! O save.

The trees are bare, the golden leaves are shed,
We bow the head,
Tears for the dead
Filling the eyes from which all joy has fled!
And still we cry, Make wars to cease,
Bring back beloved Peace,
Enough of blood is shed!

Nay! Leaves may fall, but ever lives the tree!
And even we
On bended knee
Look up to God and hope once more to see
The day when wars shall cease,
The reign of blessed Peace
Lasting eternally.