PILED in fields of carnage red!
Piled in anguish -- dying -- dead!
Piled in trenches hot with shell!
Piled in useless war of hell!
These the sons that you have borne!
Writhing there -- all torture-torn,
These the sons that you have fed
At your breasts, -- now mangled -- dead.
Mothers! Mothers! Do you see
That such slaughter should not be?
That the standard of the brave
Should not be this ghastly grave?
What are kingdoms gained or lost
At this sacrificial cost?
Bid this curse of ages cease!
And demand a "Court of Peace."
Let united Nations bar
Every Kingdom seeking war!
Let the mothers of the land
Lead this higher, nobler stand!
Though our Honor we uphold
With heroic spirit bold, --
And our home, we must defend, --
Let the price of blood now end.
Let preparedness only be
To protect and make us free
From the savage thirst for gain,
From the curse of manhood slain;
From the curse of ruined homes,
From the blight the world bemoans;
Let us arbitrate with might
Human Justice, Peace, and Right!
Mothers, 'tis to you we call!
Yours the sons to stand -- to fall,
Yours the deep, undying love!
Yours the prayers -- to plead above.
Martha S. Gielow. [signed]