A woman's appeal for volunteers.
by Mrs. Fields.While Autumn lustre peaceful dies down in the yellow West,
For thee, my country, I would plead!
For thee, who art my life, my creed,
I would forego this beauty of the West
And its sweet rest.
Is she then quite bereaved, has love of glory fled the land?
Do men forget, who wear the scars,
They, and they only, win the stars?
For them the undying laurels of the land
Drop from each hand?
Have the forgotten days of Christ then past so far away?
He knew not where to lay his head!
You shall lie soft on Glory's bed,
If in clear faith you walk the patriot's way,
Nor longer stay.
Is God's own image sunk so low that money stands for man?
Where are the arms of will and brawn?
Where is the strength we cannot pawn?
Do piles of gold wear dignity like man,
In this our plan?
Men, fathers, brothers, hear you not our strong beseeching cry?
O lovers! Women have grown proud 1
They learn to look upon a shroud,
But will not face a man who dares not die
For liberty! 
Mothers and <*>isters, sitting by the quiet twilight hearth,
We are not lonely, though alone,
Each patriot soldier is our own,
Our prayers arise beside the silent hearth,
To bless their worth.
Is high ambition dead, and every fresh desire of praise?
With him who makes a patriot's choice,
With him shall all the hours rejoice,
He shall be rocked by breezes joy can raise
On beds of praise!
In ancient days, the nobly brave 'twas said should win the fair.
Now, tears shall bathe victorious feet,
Falling, as fell the ointment sweet:
To wipe the se wounds, the noblest of the fair
Unbinds her hair.
Is human life so vast a thing, subject to no decay?
Do we forget the dying leaves?
Are we unlike the garnered sheaves?
That we can dare to let God's right decay,
In life's short day!
Go! thou shalt follow Honor, Mercy calling thee to go!
The lamp of Glory shall not pale,
The holiest love shall never fail,
To light the way thy blessed feet may go
With Victory's glow!