The Lad Out There

Oh, Powers of Love, if still you lean

Above a world so black with hate,

Where yet--as it has ever been--

The loving heart is desolate,

Look down upon the lad I love,

(My brave lad, tramping through the mire)--

I cannot light his welcoming fire,

Light Thou the stars for him above!

Now nights are dark and mornings dim,

Let him in his long watching know

That I too count the minutes slow

And light the lamp of love for him.

The sight of death, the sleep forlorn,

The old homesickness vast and dumb--

Amid these things, so bravely borne,

Let my long thoughts about him come.