Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Civilian, Vol. 9: December 22, 1916
Sons of the mothers of the Earth, who out of love were born, Go forth in majesty of health and come back mained and torn. Caught in the whirlpool of the war, all raging, battle-swirled, Rolling and reeling, bloody-foamed, labours the frenzied world.
Who dare cry peace where all is strife; Who bid the con?ict cease? Who dares to kneel beside the crib which thrones the Prince of Peace? Behold! It is the Christmas time, the feast of Him divine; How shall we stand with stained hands, and worship at His shrine?
From Verdun 's hero-hallowed heights to Belgium's sea-swept dunes, The land with shell-ripped bosom, lifts His temples, heaped in ruins. What gory harvests here are reaped, of human ?esh and bone, Christ, in thy Christmas time, forgive! Who shall for these atone?
The Serbian hills lie bleak and bare, their people ?ed or slain; And through the' Iron Gate the storm sweeps the Wallachian plain; And twice ten thousand thundering guns hurl forth their screaming shells Till Europe seems a place accurst with all its ?aming hells.
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