ONLY ONE LIFE
| "I only regret that I have but one life | By investing in Victory Bonds for Defense; |
| To lose for my country," said Nathan Hale | By cooperation in every detail. - |
| As he mounted the platform to hand as a spy. | By counting each sacrifice in its true light - |
| With devotion like this, no country can fail. | The giving of self. Such a gift cannot fail. |
| Imperishable and triumphant words? | By following closely the news from the front, - |
| Like a beacon light in a midnight sky, | Of heroes as brave as the ones long ago; |
| Lead us on to love and fight for the Land | By building a reservoir, filled with the zeal |
| For which he was willing and glad to die. | To cherish, protect our fair land from the foe. |
| Our boys cannot go to the bomb-shelling front, | Only one life - not to lose, but to give. |
| Nor are they yet able to shoulder a gun; | (He that giveth his life shall find it again). |
| But they have young lives - not to lose - but to give, | Only in giving the best that they have |
| In hundreds of ways - yes, a thousand and one. | Can our boys - or any boys - be worthy men. |
If I don't fill out this column, please bear with me patiently. It has taken me three days to write the above poem - and still I say, "Would that my tongue (or pen) could utter the thoughts that arise in me." Having so little to offer my country, I bow my head before the brave parents who have given or are willing to give their beloved sons. "For God so loved the world that He gave his begotten Son." The first great sacrifice. And only those who have a concept deeper than human love can give their own sons, and feel that the sacrifice is worth while. Every one who does so, lifts the rest of us out of the bog of selfishness, and makes us long to do something worth while.
We already have our heroes in this war - sung and unsung. A dear little girl in Cleveland, only nine years old, child of foreign-born parents, was just one more zealously loyal American, doing her bit to help Uncle Sam in this war crisis. Her school was doing like all the rest of the schools - collecting all the paper possible for the many needs in our defense work. Just at dusk little Mary Kovacny begged her father to let her go and collect papers from her neighbors - to take to school the next day. She had already done "her share" - but she wanted to give to the last ounce. A passing car, moving too swiftly, caught the child as she started across the street with her wagon. A little life sacrificed to the demon called speed. But in her short life she exemplified so well the spirit of every true American that she is being eulogized as a real heroine. Let us all try to be heroes and heroines - though unsung.
Loyally,
Florence B. Taylor