The Elbert County Tribune

THE GLOOMY SIDE OF WAR.
By ERMA MARIE ADAMS, age 14 years.

While the sun in all its splendor,
Shines upon our peaceful lands,
Just across the dark Atlantic,
War's that nation's armed bands,

Europe too was just as glorious,
Full of plenty, health and joy.
Till an Austrian heir was murdered
By a Servian high school boy.

Then the threatening war clouds gathered
And the storm in fury broke.
Ties of happy homes were shattered
When the Kings of Europe spoke.

Down behind the blue horizon,
Fades the light of day once more,
Twilight hushed the child of nature,
Darkness closed the daylight door.

From the starlit dome of Heaven,
On a spot once green and fair
Looks the moon with seeming horror,
Such a ghastly sight is there.

Such a mass of mangled bodies,
Heads and limbs all scattered round,
Men and beasts all crushed together
On the bloody battle ground.

Torn flags that waved so proudly,
Now the shrouds of those that sleep.
There the smouldering camp fire whitens
As its nightly vigil keeps.

The bitter enemies lie there,
Who bitterly fought that day,
Side by side, with death enshrouded,
Dying like our blue and gray.

On this cold, damp, earthly death-bed,
Lies a man in deepest pain;
As he thinks of home and family
Tears start like the falling rain.

He is thinking of a cottage,
Nestling far among the hills,
Of the inmates waiting for him,
Watching, praying for him still.

Oh! If he could see his darlings,
Clasp his babies to his breast,
But he knows that it is useless,
None could grant his last request.

It might stop that awful longing.
It might ease that dreadful pain,
But he knows that she will never
Turn his steps toward home again.

He will never see his loved ones
Till he wakens beyond the skies;
Where Jesus reigns eternally,
And glory never dies.

Then he prayed for God to bless them,
And his spirit passed away,
To await their happy meeting,
In the land of endless day.

In the humble little cottage,
Down beside their trundle beds,
Knelt three childish white-clad figures,
And with mother bowed their heads.

Two small hands were tightly folded
On each heaving little breast,
While she prayed for father's safety,
Ere they took their nightly rest.

Prayed, if he should fall in battle,
God would help him bear his pain,
And for strength to bear their sorrow,
If he ne'er came home again.

O! of the sorrow stricken homes,
And the vacancies they hold,
Of all the suffering caused by war,
(The half could never be told.)

God in thy loving mercy cause
This unholy war to cease;
And all the countries of the world
To be once more at peace.