He must fancy men are sneering as they see him walk the street, He will feel his cheeks turn crimson as his eyes another's meet; And the boys and girls that knew him as he was but yesterday, Will not seem to smile upon him, in the old familiar way. He will never blame his mother, but when he's alone at night, His thoughts will flock to tell him that he isn't doing right. Oh, I'm sorry for the mother from whose side a boy must go, And the strong desire to keep him that she feels, I think I know, But the boy that she's so fond of has a life to live on earth, And he hungers to be busy with the work that is of worth. He will sicken and grow timid, he'll be flesh without a heart Until death at last shall claim him, if he doesn't do his part. Have you kept him, gentle mother? Has he lost his old-time cheer? Is he silent, sad and sullen? Are his eyes no longer clear? Is he growing weak and flabby who but yesterday was strong? Then a secret grief he's nursing and I'll tell you what is wrong. All his comrades have departed on their country's noblest work, And he hungers to be with them--it is not his wish to shirk. Fly a Clean Flag This I heard the Old Flag say As I passed it yesterday: "Months ago your friendly hands Fastened me on slender strands And with patriotic love Placed me here to wave above You and yours. I heard you say On that long departed day: 'Flag of all that's true and fine, Wave above this house of mine; Be the first at break of day And the last at night to say To the world this word of cheer: Loyalty abideth here.' "Here on every wind that's blown, O'er your" portal I have flown; Rain and snow have battered me, Storms at night have tattered me; Dust of street and chimney stack Day by day have stained me black, And I've watched you passing there, Wondering how much you care. Have you noticed that your flag, Is to-day a wind-blown rag? Has your love so careless grown By the long neglect you've shown That you never raise your eye To the symbol that you fly?" "Flag, on which no stain has been, 'Tis my sin that you're unclean," Then I answered in my shame. "On my head must lie the blame. Now with patriotic hands I release you from your strands, And a spotless flag shall fly Here to greet each passer-by. Nevermore shall Flag of mine Be a sad and sorry sign Telling all who look above I neglect the thing I love. But my Flag of faith shall be Fit for every eye to see." To a Kindly Critic