The White Cliffs by Alice Duer Miller

If some immortal strangers walked our land And heard of death, how could they understand That we--doomed creatures--draw our meted breath Light-heartedly--all unconcerned with death. So in these years between the wars did men From happier continents look on us when They brought us sympathy, and saw us stand Like the proverbial ostrich--head in sand-- While youth passed resolutions not to fight, And statesmen muttered everything was right-- Germany, a kindly, much ill-treated nation-- Russia was working out her own salvation Within her borders. As for Spain, ah, Spain Would buy from England when peace came again! I listened and believed--believed through sheer Terror. I could not look whither my fear Pointed--that agony that I had known. I closed my eyes, and was not alone.

Later than many, earlier than some, I knew the die was cast--that war must come; That war must come. Night after night I lay Steeling a broken heart to face the day When he, my son--would tread the very same Path that his father trod. When the day came I was not steeled--not ready. Foolish, wild Words issued from my lips--"My child, my child, Why should you die for England too?" He smiled: "Is she not worth it, if I must?" he said. John would have answered yes--but John was dead.