- Gay, Byron.
My Angel of the Flaming Cross.
Sunset Publishing Corp, New York, 1918, Wraps, , , Very Good
, 2-3,  pp. Some wear at edges. As sung by Madame Schumann-Heink for our boys of the Army and Navy. Byron Gay wrote the music for the L. Frank Baum song "Susan Doozan." Madame Schumann-Heink was an operatic contralto, most highly respected at the time, associated with the Bayreuth festival and the Metropolitan Opera, and a familiar of Struass and Mahler. During WWI she toured the United States raising money for the war effort even though she had sons in both the German and the U.S. Navy. ''There's an angel over there An angel from I know not where Smiling sweetly through her tears She drove my fears away. Little Girl who nursed me through, I owe my life to you Oh Come back, love that I found and lost My Angel of the Flaming Cross.''
Make me no vows of constancy, dear friend, To love me, though I die, thy whole life long, And love no other till thy days shall end - Nay, it were rash and wrong. If thou canst love another, be it so; I would not reach out of my quiet grave To bind thy heart, if it should choose to go - Love should not be a slave. My placid ghost, I trust, will walk serene In clearer light than gilds those earthly morns, Above the jealousies and envies keen, Which sow this life with thorns. Thou wouldst not feel my shadowy caress; If, after death, my soul should linger here; Men's hearts crave tangible, close tenderness, Love's presence, warm and near. It would not make me sleep more peacefully That thou wert wasting all thy life in woe For my poor sake; what love thou hast for me, Bestow it ere I go. Carve not upon a stone when I am dead The praises which remorseful mourners give To women's graves - a tardy recompense - But speak them while I live. Heap not the heavy marble o'er my head To shut away the sunshine and the dew; Let small blooms grow there, and let grasses wave, And raindrops filter through. Thou wilt meet many fairer and more gay Than I; but, trust me, thou canst never find One who will love and serve thee night and day With a more single mind. Forget me when I die! The violets Above my breast will blossom just as blue, Nor miss thy tears; e'en nature's self forgets; But while I live, be true.Elizabeth Akers Allen [1832-1911]