To My Son.
A line of battle fading down the
To the far rim of memory, where
Heroic shapes against oblivion.
For you a thousand generations
'Gainst ancient wrongs, and grap-
pled with beliefs,
They wrested freedom from both
kings and gods
And forged the pattern of a fear-
You are the newest blossom of the
You are the sum of all the eons
You are the travail and the sacrifice
Of countless lives that were, and
now are you.
__Elizabeth N. Barr.
The High Winds of Home
Elizabeth N. Barr
(Olathe: privately published. 1922)