Wild sorrow in my bosom has been raging
Wild war has torn the earth and stained the water.
From homes of peace have men gone forth engaging
In bitter conflict and in bloody slaughter.
Women have sent their loved ones out, believing
The way was shown them by God's pointing finger;
They smiled farewell and hid all signs of grieving,
And sped the footsteps that were fain to linger.
For you, beloved, to whom God has beckoned,
What have I done to help you find the road?
With my own anguish only have I reckoned
On your dear spirit have I placed my load.
Now will I lift and bear it to the end
Unto your Father's place ascend, ascend.
Sonnets of sorrow and triumph. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
New York: George H. Doran, 1918.
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