THE RED CROSS NURSES

By Thomas L. Masson

OUT where the line of battle cleaves

The horizon of woe

And sightless warriors clutch the leaves

The Red Cross nurses go.

In where the cots of agony

Mark death’s unmeasured tide—

Bear up the battle’s harvestry—

The Red Cross nurses glide.

Look! Where the hell of steel has torn

Its way through slumbering earth

The orphaned urchins kneel forlorn

And wonder at their birth.

Until, above them, calm and wise

With smile and guiding hand,

God looking through their gentle eyes,

The Red Cross nurses stand.