The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1918-09-20

der the heaving pillows of the ocean
comes now day by day the list of the
dead. 1t is the rosary of our sorrows
we wet its shining heads with oui
Gears. The heartbreak that we dread.
ed is at last upon US.
1t was the thing that we had hoped
to put far off from us, although we
knew that, sooner or later, it must
come. We foresaw all too clearly this
time when we would awake at morn
ing to face dread tidings.
1t was not that we cringed or
failed to count the cost when we sent
our sons forth from the happy path
ways of peace to stalk upon the trails
of death in the grim shadows of war.
Well we knew the price there was
to pay. We knew that the altar would
demand its sacrifice.
And now that time is come. Every
day the names Of the fallen are I'M
rolled before us. And, as the days
pass, more and more are the names
becoming familiar.
Now and then, already, there are
names that leave the list quavering in
our hands. We look sadly at our
death hung out it's black plumes. We
wonder across whose doorway the
same black plumes will hang tomor-
row. We pray God to give us the
strength to bear it if that house shall
be our own.
1t is not that anyone, God knows,
prays that his neighbor will be strick-
en- to spare himself. 1t is only that
each one hopes--as, indeed, he is per-
mitted to hope-tht it may be Gods
will to send back to him the son he
gave out of his hearts sanitary and
the hearth fire Of his home.
Very helpless do we feel, for we
stand as all who have went before US
in the countless ages have stood, face
to face with the twin mysteries of
life and death.
Why one should desire to die be-
fore his time, and another live beyand
it-this is the thing we cannot fathom
and against which we make blind and
bitter protest if the blow falls upon us
and we have not God enough in our
hearts to sustain us.
So, all we can say is peace be with
the dead-the dear and beautiful dead
who have died that the world might be
free. And to the aching hearts left
behind we say also Pax Vobiscum, for
they, too, have given the gift of gifts
as immcmorial sacrifices on Free
dom's altar.
Comes now the nation to read the
lists of its dead in high pride of pos
session and exaltation. Who are those
who die under the starry flag for the
freedom of the world? AS we read
that list we call from their field of az
ure every star on the flag, for the
roll call is from sea to sea and from
northern SHOWS to the sun-swept por-
tails of the south. |
When in the dusk at the close of |
day the bugles sound "Taps" heads are
bowed low in the mansions of the rich |
and in the cottages of the poor alike,
across the wide reaches of the land.
They who were one in the Democracy |
of Life are now also in the Democracy
of Death.
The lad who went from the count
ing house of the mart found marching
with him the burden bearer of the
street, when the colors called them
both. And it will have been that it
was at the command of the humber
man that they met death together.
If favoritism was shown one more
than the other in life, certainly it is
not shown them now in death. Equ-
ally glorified their souls stood at sal
ute before the great white throne of
God.
Motley they marched away. Mot
ley are they still on that shining list
IF the dead.
When, after the bloodshed, the suf-
fering and the pain, we shall breathe
again the air of peace, we shall Sc
with what common touch death marks
he white crosses above the graves of
hose far battle grounds. l.
Here shall be one who came out of
he vast wind-swept plains of the
West where he lived with sun and sky
md big mountains; yonder shall be
he grave of him who loved the gen.
lie gladness of a New England ham,
ct; in another place spinner who
eft his loom; and in another a poet
Who closed his scroll of dreams. Here,
me who builded with stone and iron;
here, poor hummer VINO Will strut
10 more his little hour on life's MINI
C stage.
AS we read the list of our dead in
hese heartbreaking hours, let us not
'orget that long after we have fol-
owed on to meet them again, history
will also read the list to unborn gen.
rot, opc yat IN nnyfnn
Nor have we to fear the voice in
which history then will speak, There
will no other scroll in all times pages
% bright with glory as this.
Each was a sovereign in his own
!. is rht. each was a ruler in his own
and.
When the cry came out Of Mace.
lonia, it was for them to say yea or
lay. No king or khan sat throned
lbove them to play them as pawns on
he chessboard of fate. War could be
lecreed by their consent alone. If
heir voice was for peace, not even
oarliaments nor congresses could
stand out against them.
They had never known anything
out peace their whole lives long