Illinois State Normal University - Index Yearbook (Normal, IL)

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THE INDEX va ve 19199 Every one of you won the War- You and you and you- Pressing and pouring forth, more and more, Toiling and straining from shore to shore To reach the flaming edge of the dark Where man in his millions went up like a spark, You, in your thousands and millions coming, All the sea ploughed with you, all the air humming, All the land loud with you, All our hearts proud with you, All our souls bowed with the awe of your coming! Where 's the Arch high enough, Lads, to receive you, Where 's the eye dry enough, Dears, to perceive you, When at last and at last in your glory you come, Tramping home? Every one of you won the war, You and you and you-- You that carry an unscathed head, You that halt with a broken tread, And oh, most of all, you Dead, you Dead! Lift up the Gates for these that are last, That are last in the great Procession. Let the living pour in, take possession, Flood back to the city, the ranch, the farm, The church and the college and mill, Back to the otlice, the store, the exchange, Back to the wife with the babe on her arm, Back to the mother that waits on the sill, And the supper that 's hot on the range. And now, when the last of them all are by, Be the Gates lifted up on high To let those Others in, Those Gthers, their brothers, that softly tread, That come so thick, yet take no ground, That are so many, yet make no sound, Our Dead, our Dead, our Dead! O silent and secretly-moving throng, In your fifty thousand strong, Coming at dusk when the wreaths have dropt, And streets are empty, and music stopt, Silently Coming to hearts that wait Dumb in the door and dumb at the gate, And hear your step and fly to your call- Every one of you won the war, But you, you Dead, most of all! By Permission: From Scribner 's Magazine for February, 1919: Copyright, 1919, by Charles Scribner 's Sons. 9

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THE INDEX fa fa 1919 YOU AND YOU TO THE AMERICAN PRIVATE IN THE GREAT WAR BY EDITH WHARTON Every one of you won the war- Y ou and you and you- Each one knowing what it was for, And what was his job to do. Every one of you won the war, Obedient, unwearicd, unknown, Dung in the trenches, drift on the shore, Dust to the world's end blown, Every one of you, steady and true, You and you and you- Down in the pit or up in the blue, Whether you crawled or sailed or flew, Whether your closest comrade knew, Or you bore the brunt alone- ' All of you, all of you, name after name, Jones and Robinson, Smith and Brown, You from the piping prairie town, You from the Fundy fogs that came, You from the city 's roaring blocks, You from the bleak New England rocks With the shingled roof in the apple boughs, You from the brown adobe house- You from the Rockies, you from the Coast, You from the burning frontier-post And you from the Klondyke's frozen flanks, You You You You You And You You You from the cedar-swamps, you from the pi from the cotton and you from the vine, from the rice and the sugar-brakes, from the Rivers and you from the Lake from the Creeks and you from the Licks you from the brown bayon- and you and you- from the pulpit, you from the mine, from the factories, you from the banks, Closer and closer, ranks on ranks, Airplanes and cannon, and rifles and tanks, Smith and Robinson, Brown and Jones, Ruddy faces or bleaching bones, After the turmoil and blood and pain Swinging home to the folks again Or sleeping alone in the fine French rain- Every one of you won the war. 8 119 Sa

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THE INDEX Gi G' 1919 iN FLANFDERB FLELDS BY JOHN MCCRAE In Flanders, fields the poppies grow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our plaee. While in the sky The larks still bravely singing fly Unheard amid the guns below. We are the dead. Short days ago XVe lived, felt dawns, saw sunset's glow Loved and were loved. And new we lie In Flanders' fields. Take up the SlIl'l1,Q'g'lG with the foe! To you from failing hands we throw The Torch-be yours to bear it high? If you break faith with us who die Vile shall not sleep. Tho poppies grow In Flanders' fields. 3 gt, 1, N .9 f Y fr I? Ah'llCIill'.X,S Axswna These line Verses appeared in the New York eldvening Post under those written by the late Col. MQC1-ae, entitled ln Flanders Fields. Rest ye in peaee, ye Flanders dead. The fight that ye so bravely led XVe've taken up. And we will keep True faith with you who lie asleep VVith each a eross to mark his bed, And poppies blowing overhead, Where onee his own lifeblood ran red. So let your rest be sweet and deep In Flanders ifields. Fear not that ye have died for naught. The torch ye threw to us is caught. Ten million hands will hold it high, And Freedom 's light shall never die. We 've learned the lesson that ye taught In Flanders lields. -R. W. LILLARD.