Learning Curve, The Great War
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A poem written by the mother of a soldier killed in the Great War, 1918
(By courtesy of the Staffordshire Newsletter, 6 November 2003)
A poem written by the mother of a soldier killed in the Great War, 1918

Four years ago
My only son
Faced Freedom's foe:
Too true to shun
The modern Hun.

Three years ago
That gallant son
Still smote the foe
With honest gun:
And laurels won.

Two years ago
The boy was here;
He left the foe
For Christmas cheer:
No pain or tear.

One year ago
I lost my son -
A shrapnel blow,
His task was done:
For right begun

On foreign soil,
Amidst the brave
Who rest from toil,
A hero's grave
His dust will save.

Some disobeyed
Stern duty's call;
At home they stayed,
Let brothers fall:
What cravens all!

But I am glad -
Though sorely hit -
My only lad
Had soul of grit:
Well did his bit.

This Christmastide
I do not weep,
For Christ who died
Now lives to keep
The blest who sleep.

So tho' life's way
Is lone for me,
I shall one day
Rejoice to see
My Love who's free.

W. Baker,
Stafford.
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