Oh, some shall stand in glory’s light when all the strife is done,
And many a mother there shall say, ‘For truth I gave my son!’
But I shall stand in silence then and hear the stories brave,
For I must answer at the last that gold is all I gave.
When all this age shall pass away, and silenced are the guns,
When sweethearts join their loves again, and mothers kiss their sons,
When brave unto the brave return, and all they did is told,
How pitiful my gift shall seem, when all I gave is gold.
When we are asked what did you then, when all the world was red,
And some shall say, ‘I fell in France,’ and some, ‘I mourned my dead;’
With all the brave assembled there in glory long to live,
How trivial our lives shall seem who had but gold to give.
