Soldier, if in this night's reaping
Thou be of the harvest found,
Should death take thee into keeping,
Sharer of the soulless ground,
Yet stand fast with sword uplifted,
Wheat from chaff is surely sifted;
Though thou leave all earth behind thee
Never fear but love will find thee;
Lies the issue on the altar,
Ours to dare and never falter.
Soldier, far from thee I stand,
Yet I take thee by the hand,
Doff this woman's robe of weakness,
This inheritance of meekness,
Bid thee harden to the strife,
In the hour supreme of life,
Praying with my heart aflame
As I face the stars to-night;
Worthy be thou of thy name,
Deadly be thy sword and bright,—
Heaven send thee will to fight!
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