The Mother / May Herschel-Clarke

The Mother
''If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. &mdash;Rupert Brooke''

If you should die, think only this of me In that still quietness where is space for thought, Where parting, loss and bloodshed shall not be, And men may rest themselves and dream of nought: That in some place a mystic mile away One whom you loved has drained the bitter cup Till there is nought to drink; has faced the day Once more, and now, has raised the standard up.

And think, my son, with eyes grown clear and dry She lives as though for ever in your sight, Loving the things you loved, with heart aglow For country, honour, truth, traditions high, — Proud that you paid their price. (And if some night Her heart should break — well, lad, you will not know.)