"The casualties are light," the news line reads,
As blazoned headlines tell of allied victories -
"The beginning of the end," our President
And others say; the cynic disagrees.
"The casualties are light," a mother reads -
Then meets the dreaded knock at her front door -
"The War Department... (steady now!) ... regrets ..."
The morning sun is dimmed ... forevermore.
"My son a 'casualty'? He is our world -
His father's radiant sun ... my star of hope ...
The bright fulfillment of our earthly dreams.
How dare the god of War thus interlope!"
Dear God in Heaven, take him safely home,
While outraged comrades carry on the fight, -
While every man and woman, youth, and child
Work valiantly - to keep the death list light.
---Florence B. Taylor
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