Rest here, my horse, the night is dull,—the blood-sick stars are gone, Listen, for thou like me wert bred in far Saskatchewan. And this September night at home, under a happier sky, The bursting yellow sheaves upon the unbounded prairie lie. Bread, bread—the staff and stay of life—'tis what the wheatlands yield; But only death and agony are gathered from this field. There's respite now, but ah! good friend, before another day, Although our bodies may be here, we, we, how far away! We've ridden many a weary mile, together we have fought For Freedom, honor and the right, and anything we've wrought Our Country to the Empire will still more closely bind. Ah! where the reddened maple leaf is fluttering in the wind, There is my heart, oh noble horse, and may we gallop free Some day again in Canada, our Land of Liberty. The night drags on toward the dawn, and far on yonder plain I hear the throb of musketry, I feel its echoing pain. I see the star-shells breaking, and nearer than their flare, A wreath of deadly smoke points out that once a town was there. Look, brother horse, the night is past, and glorious is the dawn, Away with peril! We'll ride on for our Saskatchewan.[10] With day comes hope, and though again the sky with blood is red, We'll ride against the enemy, for Victory lies ahead, Aye! for the Empire—Victory that thou shalt help to bring. And for the Allies Victory—on earth what greater thing! 

[10]

THE CRY OF THE WOMEN

THE CRY OF THE WOMEN

 A new year dawning on a warring world! And many fight, and many pray for peace; But yet the roar of battle will not cease, Still man against his brother man is hurled. So we who wait—we women in our woe, Who wait and work—who wait, and work, and weep— For us there is no rest, for us no sleep, As our sad thoughts are wandering grim and slow, Across those dreary fields where far away Our hero myriads bleed and burn and die, We lift our hearts toward the pitying sky— Dawns there no hope upon this New Year's day? 

And many fight, and many pray for peace;

But yet the roar of battle will not cease,

Who wait and work—who wait, and work, and weep—

For us there is no rest, for us no sleep,

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