Page:Czecho-Slovak Student Life, Volume 18.djvu/24
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18
STUDENT LIFE
By Ivan Kramoris:
ARMISTICE DAY.
The battle’s done; the war is won; the spoils the victor takes.
The mother stares at lists of men to see if one is there
With gold star stuck behind his name; yet hope within her wakes
That once again she’ll kiss the son who gave her so much care.
In vain she looks; his name’s not there. She turns to see with joy
The doughboys leaping off the train; she hopes to see him there,
Just one of all those thousands, she could call her own dear boy.
She sees her neighbors son, radiant, with joyous glare
Take up his mother in his arms and hold her there so long.
If only her boy would step out, so she that bliss could share.
She sees the sweethearts greet their boys ’mid shouts and gleeful song:
She sees a friend here meet a friend, and enemies now dare
To shake their hands. But her boy was not among them; he stepped
Not off that train, now puffing out its clouds of smoke and steam
As it rolls out of the station. “Twas some misnomer crept
Into her heart—she ran after that train and wished to scream
To make it stop. A doughboy stopped her there, it was his pal.
He told her how her boy had fought; he answered someones call,
And in that answering heroically gave life for life
On that battlefield where blood runs wild in human strife.
The mother listened tearlessly, to all this, in a haze;
Then gave vent to feelings pent as when a heart decays.
The mother stares at lists of men to see if one is there
With gold star stuck behind his name; yet hope within her wakes
That once again she’ll kiss the son who gave her so much care.
In vain she looks; his name’s not there. She turns to see with joy
The doughboys leaping off the train; she hopes to see him there,
Just one of all those thousands, she could call her own dear boy.
She sees her neighbors son, radiant, with joyous glare
Take up his mother in his arms and hold her there so long.
If only her boy would step out, so she that bliss could share.
She sees the sweethearts greet their boys ’mid shouts and gleeful song:
She sees a friend here meet a friend, and enemies now dare
To shake their hands. But her boy was not among them; he stepped
Not off that train, now puffing out its clouds of smoke and steam
As it rolls out of the station. “Twas some misnomer crept
Into her heart—she ran after that train and wished to scream
To make it stop. A doughboy stopped her there, it was his pal.
He told her how her boy had fought; he answered someones call,
And in that answering heroically gave life for life
On that battlefield where blood runs wild in human strife.
The mother listened tearlessly, to all this, in a haze;
Then gave vent to feelings pent as when a heart decays.
She goes to church now everytime she hears the peal of bell
To pray for her dear boy. Sherman was right that war is hell.
To pray for her dear boy. Sherman was right that war is hell.
GOOD KING WENCESLAV.
The Good King of this English legend was a real person, a King of Bohemia from 921 to 929. The miracle here related is said to have occurred on December 25th, the day of the Feast of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr. The song is particularly effective if sung antiphonally or dramatized.
Good King Wenceslav looked out
On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep, and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho’ the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gath’ring winter fuel.
On the feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep, and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho’ the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight,
Gath’ring winter fuel.
Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know’st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
“Sire he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
By St. Agnes’ fountain”.
If thou know’st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
“Sire he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
By St. Agnes’ fountain”.
“Bring me flesh and bring me wine,
Bring me pine-logs, hither;
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them thither”.
Page and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together.
Thro’ the rude wind’s wild lament,
And the bitter weather.
Bring me pine-logs, hither;
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear them thither”.
Page and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together.
Thro’ the rude wind’s wild lament,
And the bitter weather.
“Sire the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart I know not how,
I can go no longer”.
“Mark my foot-steps, my good page,
Tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails my heart I know not how,
I can go no longer”.
“Mark my foot-steps, my good page,
Tread thou in them boldly;
Thou shalt find the winter’s rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly.
In his master’s steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod,
Which the saint had printed;
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod,
Which the saint had printed;
Therefore, Christian men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.