In Memory of My Son Who Was Killed in France by Eva Holleman, Feb. 6, 1`923

Herbert R. Holleman. . . In Memory of My Son Who Was Killed in France Oct. 8, 1918

My blue eyed boy, you have left my knee

To sail alone on life’s great sea,

But I raised you so you could steer your boat,

Safe and clear to the heavenly port.

You were calm and serene as you marched away,

And my eyes are dim when I think of that day,

That you crossed the ocean for a foreign shore,

I never once dreamed I would see you no more.

You fell on the field, and your duty was done,

Many burdens you had lifted, so the crown you had won,

And God let me feel, and I sing as I wait,

I shall see you inside of the pearly gate.

Your life and your death has made earth for me,

A place to prepare for eternity,

When I think of my boy at the heavenly court,

I am more thoughtful and earnest as I steer my boat.

I want to tell mothers of our land, today,

To raise your children right, is the only way,

To ever be happy when old age feeble clutch,

Will frost your hair with its chilly touch.

Oh, mother, let me tell you, while your child is a child,

Is the time to prepare them for what is worth while,

Put Christ in their life, first, last and always,

For he is the one who takes care of their days.

When you are close to the great beyond,

And the silence of eternity you enter upon,

You will realize then, what you did on the earth,

For your sons and your daughters when you gave them birth.

The friendless and helpless appealed to my boy,

To help them and cheer them was my chief joy,

And since he left the world, I try to be kind,

And help finish the work he left behind.

You know I am happy the livelong day, when I think of my boy I sing and pray,

O, mother, let me tell you life’s a terrible plight

To the boy or girl, that is not raised right.

--Mrs. Eva Holleman

From page 2 of the Oxford Public Ledger, Tuesday, Feb. 6, 1923