File:The Red Cross in peace and war (1899) (14769141935).jpg

Identifier: redcrossinpea00bart (find matches)
Title: The Red Cross in peace and war
Year: 1899 (1890s)
Authors: Barton, Clara, 1821-1912
Subjects: American National Red Cross Red Cross and Red Crescent
Publisher: (Washington, D.C.) American Historical Press
Contributing Library: Yale University, Cushing/Whitney Medical Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Open Knowledge Commons and Yale University, Cushing/Whitney Medical Library

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rat-ulations now on the happy return of her faithful and efficient agents, of whomit may be truly said that they went and saw and conquered. We rejoiced thatthese new friends had come to know so well the American missionaries inTurkey, and were truly thankful for a mutually happy acquaintance. Wewished Miss Barton and her men a hearty welcome on their arrival, and,now, with all our hearts, we wish them god-speed on their return home. Constantinople, Turkey. The little verses so kindly referred to by Dr. Greene, were noteven written, but were a simple train of thought that took rhythmic 3i8 THE RED CROSS. form as we crossed over the sea of Marmora, on our way to an islandcelebration of the Fourth of July. Later I found time to put them onpaper and read them to the guests at our farewell meeting, presentingthem to our host, Mr. \V. W. Peet. They appear to have gained afavor far beyond their merit, and by request of many friends they aregiven place in the report as a part of its history.
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AN ANCIENT MOSQUE IN KILLIS. ARMENIA. 319 MARMORA. It was twenty and a hundred years, oh blue and rolling sea,A thousand in the onward march of human liberty,Since on its sunlit bosom, wind-tossed and sails unfurled,Atlantics mighty billows bore a message to the world. It thunders down its rocky coast, and stirs its frugal homes; The Saxon hears it as he toils, the Indian as he roams; The buffalo upon the plains, the panther in his lair, And the eagle hails the kindred note, and screams it through the air. Make way for liberty, it roared, here let the oppressed go free,Break loose your bands of tyrant hands, this land is not for thee.The old world in its crusted grasp grinds out the souls of men,Here plant their feet in freedoms soil, this land was made for them. The mother slept in her island home, but the children heard the call,And ere the western sun went down, had answered, one and all;For Britains thirteen colonies had vanished in a day,And six and half a hundred men had signed

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