Let Me Go, Let Me

I Wonder If A Soldier Ever Does Mend A Bullet Hole In His Coat?

I Was Only One Woman Alone, And Had No Power To Move To Action Full-fed, Sleek- Coated, Ease-loving, Pleasure-seeking, Well-paid,and Well-placed Countrymen In This War- Trampled, Dead, Old Land, Each One Afraid That He Should Be Called Upon To Do Something.

Although Its Growth May Seem To Have Been Slow, It Is To Be Remembered That It Is Not A Shrub, Or Plant, To Shoot Up In The Summerand Wither In The Frosts. The Red Cross Is A Part Of Us--it Has Come To Stay--and Like The Sturdy Oak, Its Spreading Branches Shall Yet Encompass And Shelter The Relief Of The Nation.

An Institution Or Reform Movement That Is Not Selfish, Must Originate In The Recognition Of Some Evil That Is Adding To The Sum Of Human Suffering, Or Diminishing The Sum Of Happiness.

My Business Is Stanching Blood And Feeding Fainting Men; My Post The Open Field Between The Bullet And The Hospital. I Sometimes Discuss The Application Of A Compress Or A Wisp Of Hay Under A Broken Limb, But Not The Bearing And Merits Of A Political Movement. I Make Gruel--not Speeches; I Write Letters Home For Wounded Soldiers, Not Political Addresses.