The young men said to their mother,
“Hear us, O dearest and best!
Time cannot cool or smother
The love of you in our breast;
Here is your place and no other —
Come home and rest.”
And the mother's heart was grateful
For the love of her cherished ones,
And her labor, bitter and hateful,
She left at the word of her sons,
Till she heard far off the fateful
Voices of guns.
Their love did more enslave her;
They did not understand
That none could guard or save her
When war was on the land,
But herself, and God, who gave her
Heart and mind and hand.