The Washington times., 1917-09-09
ny the QUEEN OF ROUMANIA.

- EATH Is sweeping over the
earth-in all lands. beneath
many suns, 9thousands OF
- brave boys are giving their
lives. mothers are crying. the earth
Is drinking nothing but blood.
And because Death has become
master. he stretches out his hand and
wancs also to pluck the buds that
were TO have POWERED in the days to
come-he stretches out his hand and
tries to seize hold of my own treas
ure. of my last born. OF the child OF
my heart!
There is not yet enough dying.
enough sorrow. enough sacrifce-
each woman must learn to give up
what she loves. must weep. must
hide her head in the dust.
In these days the sons OF queens
are not allowed TO throw away their
lives in battle. but so that better I
should understand the tears Of every
mother. Death has stolen into my
house and stands there waiting.
ready to tear from me my youngest
the most innocent, the one most with
] out defense.
There he lies on the narrow white
| ness Of his bed. hghtinR back some
Invisible terror "nlFn u 100 plk-
seem to be struggling with him. vet
all nv love cannot help him. 7 am
powerless before his suffering. nv
anguish cannot lessen Il. nv tears
cannot cool the fever in his blood.
Boys Are Dying.
All around me the sons OF mothers
are dying and here within the walls
of this guarded chamber my child Is
dying and cannot hold him
back . . He becomes the symbol Of
my country's tragedy; he is wrestling
against an enemy he is unable to
overcome. whilst not far OF. on all
our frontiers. our armies are strug-
Cling against invading forces that
inch by inch are tearing the holy soil
OF home from beneath our feet!
My child is powerless as my coun-
try is powerless. our love. our prayers.
our efforts, the splitting OF our blood
are in vain. for indeed there are hours
that belong not to the will OF man.
but that belong to Fate.
1t IL my birthday. A day set apart
for national rejoicins-and death
stands waiting. waiting at the side OF
my child's bed.
Others are also waiting for me: my
wounded are waiting: they, too. are
my children: for days have neglected
them: because Of my cruel anxiety I
have not been able to go to them, but
they need NE. their voices call me
too many need me. Sometimes feel
as though Il were too much, as though
Il would drive me mad.
Yet on this day all have a right
over me. must forsake no ono. the
most humble must be able to reach
my heart.
Flowers In ProfusIon.
Flowers have been brought to me In
fragrant protusion. the floor Is strewn
with them, they lie on tho tables. they
are masssd on every chair. the air IL
filled with their perfume!
What 10 tho meaning of all these
fIowers7 Have they been brought to
me for a day of rejoicing or for a
day of-death7
FILLING my arms with them hurry
to the beds of my Wounded-thsra -
so little time my child IL
dying! His voice IL calling me back
but. oh. there are so many beds, so
many! VIII ! ever reach the last!
What are they saying to me az they
bend To kiss my handsI cannot clear
Iy SEQ their faces, for my eyos are full
Of tears. cannot clearly hear their
voices because NJ tho throbbinE OF
my AnEuished hsart-whAt are they
sayInE7 One name Is on every lip
MircsaI MircsA! They are wishing
health and recovery to the child OF
my heartl But he Is dying! know We
not that he Is DYING Ny
heart cries out the awful certainty
and I bury each bed under my flowers
as though in some dream ritual were
decking with them the beds OF the
dead
Mircea Is resting Mirces's
at peace Mircea Is dead .
silence Of Death,
Now the chamber Of suffering IL
silent, the screams are a thing Of the
past. They belonged To
earthly terrors for Mircea
all earthly terrors are passed.
Like a little light that fiickers and
goes out, thus did he die-nu more
screams, hardly a sigh. lie was tired.
his heart could bear the strain no
longer he was too small
fighter, so God let him die