THE SOLDIER

[Editor’s note: This poem was written by my mother.]

THE SOLDIER

Josephine Armstrong

A soldier now is he,
The time has come for him to cross the sea, and fight for his country.
In the hammock at midnight he lay,
Not knowing what weariness he would face the next day,

Through the porthole the moon beams shone,
As the soldier lay there wishing; for the break of dawn.
But soon he was awaken,
Take your place on deck came a shout!
This was all the soldier could hear day in and day out.

The winds would whisper and the waves would roll,
And in the wild blustering of bullets and bombs
He could hear them call for his soul.
But brave was the soldier both day and night,
For he wanted to win his fight,

At last, he had reached the foreign land,
And there he stood just off deck upon the sand,
He lifted his right hand upon his forehead and said:
He would fight for his country until he was dead.

The soldier marched on with his body in pain,
He was not ready to give up in vain.
His heart was breaking for a word from love ones back home,
But his address to them was unknown.

The soldier marched forward through blood, toil, cloud, and fire,
Never knowing when he would be able to retire.
While down in the sod, the soldier often lifted his head to heaven above and prayed to God,
For the soldier knew that it is He who is God of the Country and could give men their freedom and liberty.

The soldier marched far,
Still trying the war to bar,
Suddenly he was struck down by a bullet so powerful and strong,
That even the strings of his heart were stung,
He closes his eyes for no more can he see,
And he utters a Whisper, “My country I have done the best I could for Thee.”

Josephine Ann Armstrong
Written ”Year, 1939”

Copyright © 1939 by Josephine Ann Armstrong

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