Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FATHER O'SHEA WAS HIS REGIMENT'S PRIDE, by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR First Line: Father o'shea was his regiments pride Last Line: "and send him a padre like father o'shea!" Subject(s): Clergy; World War I; Priests; Rabbis; Ministers; Bishops; First World War | ||||||||
Father O'Shea was his regiment's pride. Sturdy, fine sons of the emerald sod, Like heroes they fought and like children they died With their Padre beside them to help them to God. Four times court-martialed for risking his life In No Man's Land, seeking his lost where they lay. "They are my sons as the Church is my wife, And I never will fail them," said Father O'Shea. They were called for their turn in the terrible drive, And the Padre went up with his boys to the town Where host upon host passed their last night alive -- Ah, the few that came back where the many went down! He had looked in those simple young hearts to the deep, He had shriven their souls for the perilous way. "It's clean wheat for heaven the Berthas will reap In the battle to-morrow," said Father O'Shea. But the blood will run hot when it soon may be cold, And life's lure is stronger with death just ahead. There were women with eyes that were shallow and bold In the quarter inclosed, where a narrow gate led To the chambers a man need not visit by stealth, That stood open shameless to all who could pay. The authorities gave them a clean bill of health, But they never could get one from Father O'Shea. That night, every Irishman bound for that gate Stopped at salute -- there was no room to pass The figure that sat there as steady as fate With a quizzical glitter of spectacle glass. He shut for a marker his thumb in the book. "Is it me that ye want, son?" he glanced up to say. They all turned abashed from the probe of that look, And back to his reading went Father O'Shea. The shadows of sleeplessness circled his eyes When at morning he heartened his lads for the test, But through a worse danger he'd guarded his prize, And in the tired body his heart was at rest. If I had a son where the red rivers roll, With every breath of my lips I would pray, "God save him, God keep him in body and soul -- And send him a Padre like Father O'Shea!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...D'ANNUNZIO by ERNEST HEMINGWAY 1915: THE TRENCHES by CONRAD AIKEN TO OUR PRESIDENT by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE HORSES by KATHARINE LEE BATES CHILDREN OF THE WAR by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE U-BOAT CREWS by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE RED CROSS NURSE by KATHARINE LEE BATES WAR PROFITS by KATHARINE LEE BATES THE UNCHANGEABLE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN A LYNMOUTH WIDOW by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |
|