Joy in the Morning by Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews


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Page 1

Charles Scribner's Sons

* * * * * *


To the two stars of a service flag, to a brother and a son who served in
France, this book is dedicated. No book, to my thinking, were one
Shakespere and Isaiah rolled together, might fittingly answer the honor
which they, with four million more American soldiers, have brought to
their own. So that the stories march out very proudly, headed by the
names of





Now that the tide of Khaki has set toward our shores instead of away;
now that the streets are filled with splendid boys with gold chevrons of
foreign service or no less honorable silver chevrons of service here;
now that the dear lads who sleep in France know that the "torch was
caught" from their hands, and that faith with them was kept; now
that--thank God, who, after all, rules--the war is over, there is an old
word close to the thought of the nation. "Heaviness may endure for a
night, but joy cometh in the morning." A whole country is so thinking.
For possibly ten centuries the Great War will be a background for
fiction. To us, who have lived those years, any tale of them is a
personal affair. Every-day women and men whom one meets in the street
may well say to us: "My boy was in the Argonne," or: "My brother fought
at St. Mihiel." Over and over, unphrased, our minds echo lines of that
verse found in the pocket of the soldier dead at Gallipoli:

"_We_ saw the powers of darkness put to flight,
_We_ saw the morning break."

Crushed and glorified beyond all generations of the planet, war stories
prick this generation like family records. It is from us of to-day that
the load is lifted. We have weathered the heaviness of the night; to us
"Joy cometh in the morning."



I. The Ditch

II. Her Country Too

III. The Swallow

IV. Only One of Them

V. The V.C.

VI. He That Loseth His Life Shall Find It

VII. The Silver Stirrup

VIII. The Russian

IX. Robina's Doll

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 27th Jun 2019, 8:22