THE YOUNG MOTHER

Of what concern are wars to her,

Or treaties broken on the seas?

Or all the cruelties of men?

She has her baby on her knees.

In blessed singleness of heart,

What heed has she for nations’ wrath?

She sings a little peaceful hymn

As she prepares the baby's bath.

As in a dream, she hears the talk

Of mine, torpedo, bomb and gun —

She shudders, but her thoughts are all

Encradled with her little son.