Chapter C: T. Pezare

Aug. 11, 1915.

A Canadian to His Parents

Mother and Dad, I understand
At last why you've for ever been
Telling me how that way-off land
Of yours was Home; for since I've seen
The place that up to now was just a name
I feel the same.

The college green, the village hall,
St. Paul's, The Abbey, how could I
Spell out your meaning, I whose all
Was peaks that pricked a sun-down sky
And endless prairie lands that stretched below
Their pathless snow?

But now I've trodden magic stairs
Age-rounded in a Norman fane,
Beat time to bells that trembled prayers
Down spangly banks of country lane,
Throbbed with the universal heart that beats
In London streets.

I'd heard of world-old chains that bind
So tight that she can scarcely stir,
Till tired Old England drops behind
Live nations more awake than her,
Like us out West. I thought it all was true
Before I knew.

But England's sure what she's about,
And moves along in work and rest
Too big and set for brag and shout,
And so I never might have guessed
All that she means unless I'd watched her ways
These battle-days.

And now I've seen what makes me proud
Our chaps have proved a soldier's right
To England; glad that I'm allowed
My bit with her in field and fight;
And since I'm come to join them Over There
I claim my share.