The Project Gutenberg eBook, Poems of To-Day: an Anthology, by Various
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Poems of To-Day: an Anthology
Author: Various
Release Date: September 18, 2007 [eBook #22668]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF TO-DAY: AN ANTHOLOGY***
E-text prepared by Al Haines
Transcriber's note:
Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in curly braces, e.g. {99}. They have been located where page breaks occurred in the original book.
POEMS OF TO-DAY:
an Anthology.
London: Published for the English Association by Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd., 1918
First issued in August, 1915;
Reprinted October, 1915; January, March,
June, September, and December, 1916;
May, July, September, October, 1917,
January, February, and July, 1918.
{vii}
PREFATORY NOTE
This book has been compiled in order that boys and girls, already perhaps familiar with the great classics of the English speech, may also know something of the newer poetry of their own day. Most of the writers are living, and the rest are still vivid memories among us, while one of the youngest, almost as these words are written, has gone singing to lay down his life for his country's cause. Although no definite chronological limit has been set, and Meredith at least began to write in the middle of the nineteenth century, the intention has been to represent mainly those poetic tendencies which have become dominant as the influence of the accepted Victorian masters has grown weaker, and from which the poetry of the future, however it may develope, must in turn take its start. It may be helpful briefly to indicate the sequence of themes. Man draws his being from the heroic Past and from the Earth his Mother; and in harmony with these he must shape his life to what high purposes he may. Therefore this gathering of poems falls into three groups. {viii} First there are poems of History, of the romantic tale of the world, of our own special tradition here in England, and of the inheritance of obligation which that tradition imposes upon us. Naturally, there are some poems directly inspired by the present war, but nothing, it is hoped, which may not, in happier days, bear translation into any European tongue. Then there come poems of the Earth, of England again and the longing of the exile for home, of this and that familiar countryside, of woodland and meadow and garden, of the process of the seasons, of the "open road" and the "wind on the heath," of the city, its deprivations and its consolations. Finally there are poems of Life itself, of the moods in which it may be faced, of religion, of man's excellent virtues, of friendship and childhood, of passion, grief, and comfort. But there is no arbitrary isolation of one theme from another; they mingle and inter-penetrate throughout, to the music of Pan's flute, and of Love's viol, and the bugle-call of Endeavour, and the passing-bell of Death.
May, 1915.
{ix}
INDEX OF AUTHORS
PAGE
A. E. (GEORGE RUSSELL)
Shadows and Lights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
ABERCROMBIE, LASCELLES
Margaret's Song . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
BEECHING, H. C.
Fatherhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Prayers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
BELLOC, HILAIRE
Courtesy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
From "Dedicatory Ode" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
The South Country . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
BINYON, LAURENCE
Bab-lock-hythe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73
England . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
For the Fallen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26
In misty blue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
O summer sun . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
The Little Dancers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
The Road Menders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
BLUNT, W. S.
A Day in Sussex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
Chanclebury Ring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45
St. Valentine's Day . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79
BRIDGES, ROBERT
Awake, my heart, to be loved . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
Elegy on a Lady . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
I love all beauteous things . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
I never shall love the snow again . . . . . . . . . . . 148
I will not let thee go . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
London Snow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91
{x}
On a Dead Child . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
Spring goeth all in white . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
The hill pines were sighing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
There is a hill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
When June is come . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
BROOKE, RUPERT
The Dead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
The Old Vicarage, Grantchester . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
The Soldier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
CANTON, WILLIAM
Heights and Depths . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
CHALMERS, P. R.
Roundabouts and Swings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117
CHESTERTON, G. K.
The Praise of Dust . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
COLERIDGE, MARY E.
A Huguenot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
Chillingham . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Gibberish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
Street Lanterns . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95
Where a Roman Villa stood, above Freiburg . . . . . . . 33
COLUM, PADRAIC
A Cradle Song . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
CORNFORD, FRANCES
Pre-existence
To a Lady seen from the Train . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
CRIPPS, A. S.
A Lyke-wake Carol . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
A Refrain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32
Essex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
DAVIDSON, JOHN
A Cinque Port . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
In Romney Marsh . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
London . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
DAVIES, W. H.
Days that have been . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
Early Morn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67
Leisure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
{xi}
DE LA MARE, WALTER
All that's Past . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
An Epitaph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Martha . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135
Nod . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
The Scarecrow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
DRINKWATER, JOHN
A Town Window . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Mamble . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
The Defenders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
FLECKER, J. E.
A ship, an isle, a sickle moon . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Brumana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
GOSSE, EDMUND
Lying in the Grass . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
Philomel in London . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
GOULD, GERALD
Fallen Cities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Oxford . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
'Tis but a week . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
HODGSON, RALPH
Time, you old gipsy man . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
HOUSMAN, LAURENCE
Annus Mirabilis (1902) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 99
JOHNSON, LIONEL
A Friend . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
By the Statue of King Charles at Charing Cross . . . . . 10
The Precept of Silence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
KIPLING, RUDYARD
Sussex . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
The Flowers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
LESLIE, SHANE
Fleet Street . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
MACAULAY, ROSE
Many Sisters to Many Brothers . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23
The Devourers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
MACKAIL, J. W.
On the Death of Arnold Toynbee . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
{xii}
MASEFIELD, JOHN
Beauty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
By a Bier-side . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
Fragments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3
Laugh and be merry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
Tewkesbury Road . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
Twilight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138
MEREDITH, GEORGE
Juggling Jerry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
From "Love in the Valley" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
Lucifer in Starlight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
The Lark Ascending . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
MEYNELL, ALICE
A Dead Harvest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
At Night . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
Chimes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
November Blue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
Parted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
The Lady Poverty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
The Shepherdess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
To a Daisy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
To the Beloved . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
MOORE, T. STURGE
Idleness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
Renaissance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
Rower's Chant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
NEWBOLT, SIR HENRY
Drake's Drum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
He Fell among Thieves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
Minora Sidera . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
The Volunteer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
Vitaï Lampada . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
NICHOLS, J. B. B.
On the Toilet Table of Queen Marie-Antoinette . . . . . 9
NOYES, ALFRED
The moon is up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14
QUILLER-COUCH, SIR A. T.
Alma Mater . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
Upon Eckington Bridge, River Avon . . . . . . . . . . . 9
{xiii}
RADFORD, ERNEST
Plymouth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
SMITH, ADA
In City Streets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
STEVENSON, R. L.
I will make you brooches . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
If this were Faith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114
In the Highlands . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
My Wife . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
Requiem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
The Celestial Surgeon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
The House Beautiful . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
The Vagabond . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
To S. R. Crockett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
To Will H. Low . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
Youth and Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
SYMONS, ARTHUR
In Fountain Court . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
In the Meadows at Mantua . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
Montserrat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
THOMPSON, FRANCIS
All Flesh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Daisy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
Messages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
The Kingdom of God . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130
To a Snowflake . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127
To my Godchild . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
TRENCH, HERBERT
Musing on a Great Soldier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16
O dreamy, gloomy, friendly Trees . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
TYNAN, KATHARINE
Farewell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
The Choice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
The Old Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
WATSON, WILLIAM
Estrangement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Ode in May . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80
WOODS, MARGARET L.
Gaudeamus Igitur . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
To the Forgotten Dead . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
{xiv}
YEATS, W. B.
A Dream of a Blessed Spirit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven . . . . . . . . . . 156
Down by the galley gardens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Into the Twilight . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
The Folly of being Comforted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
The Lake Isle of Inisfree . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61
When you are Old . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
For permission to use copyright poems the English Association is greatly indebted to the authors; to the literary executors of Mary Coleridge (Sir Henry Newbolt), J. E. Flecker (Mrs. Flecker), Lionel Johnson (Mr. Elkin Mathews), George Meredith (Trustees, through Mr. W. M. Meredith), R. L. Stevenson (Mr. Lloyd Osbourne), Arthur Symons (through Mr. Edmund Gosse), and Francis Thompson (Mr. Wilfrid Meynell); and to the following publishers in respect of the poems enumerated:
Mr. B. H. Blackwell:
A. S. Cripps, Lyra Evangelistica (Nos. 25, 26, 39).
Messrs. W. Blackwood & Sons:
Alfred Noyes, Drake (No. 12).
Mr. A. H. Bullen:
W. B. Yeats, Poems (Nos. 101, 133, 146).
Messrs. Burns & Oates:
Francis Thompson, Works (Nos. 105, 106, 110, 123, 127, 145).
Alice Meynell, Collected Poems (Nos. 62, 74, 81, 107, 111, 115,
137, 140, 147).
Shane Leslie, Eyes of Youth (No. 84).
Messrs. Chatto & Windus:
R. L. Stevenson, Underwoods (Nos. 51, 73, 90, 109), and
Songs of Travel (Nos. 29, 32, 68, 71, 94,
96, 135).
Messrs. Constable & Co.:
Walter de la Mare, The Listeners (Nos. 1, 61, 67, 117, 142).
{xv}
Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd.:
W. Canton, The Comrades (No. 28).
G. K. Chesterton, The Wild Knight (No. 131).
Messrs. Duckworth & Co.:
Hilaire Belloc, Verses (Nos. 35, 45, 112).
T. Sturge Moore, The Gazelles (Nos. 89, 93).
Mr. A. O. Fifield:
W. H. Davies, Songs of Joy (Nos. 48, 86), and
Nature Poems (No. 53).
Messrs. Max Goschen, Ltd.:
J. E. Flecker, The Golden Journey to Samarcand* (Nos. 24, 60).
Mr. William Heinemann:
W. S. Blunt, Poetry of (Nos. 36, 64, 65).
Edmund Gosse, Collected Poems (Nos. 82, 87).
Arthur Symons, Poems (Nos. 85, 113, 130).
Mr. John Lane:
L. Abercrombie, Interludes and Poems (No. 31).
John Davidson, Ballads and Songs (Nos. 37, 38, 80).
William Watson, The Hope of the World (Nos. 66, 121).
Margaret L. Woods, Lyrics and Ballads (Nos. 10, 91).
Mr. Elkin Mathews:
Laurence Binyon, Poems (1894), (No. 79),
London Visions (Nos. 75, 77), and
England (Nos. 16, 57, 129).
Lionel Johnson, Poems (Nos. 9, 95, 118).
Messrs. Maunsel & Co.:
P. R. Chalmers, Green Days and Blue Days (No. 99).
Padraic Colum, Wild Earth (No. 124).
Messrs. Methuen & Co.:
Rudyard Kipling, The Seven Seas (No. 50), and
The Five Nations (No. 34).
Sir A. T. Quiller-Couch, Poems and Ballads (No. 8), and
The Vigil of Venus (No. 44).
Herbert Trench, New Poems (Nos. 14, 92).
{xvi}
Messrs. Sidgwick & Jackson, Ltd.:
Rupert Brooke, 1914 and Other Poems (Nos. 20, 21, 47).
John Drinkwater, Swords and Ploughshares (Nos. 19, 40, 41).
Laurence Housman, Selected Poems (No. 83).
Rose Macaulay, The Two Blind Countries (No. 46).
Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co.:
Robert Bridges, Poetical Works (Nos. 54, 56, 63, 76, 104, 125,
126, 128, 132, 139, 141).
Messrs. T. Fisher Unwin, Ltd.:
Ernest Radford, Poems (No. 42).
W. B. Yeats, Poems (Nos. 49, 88, 138, 143, 144).
The Poetry Book Shop (through Mr. Harold Monro).
Ralph Hodgson, Eve (No. 5).
* Now transferred to Mr. Martin Seeker.
The Editor of The Times courteously confirmed the permissions given by Mr. George Russell ("A. E.") in respect of No. 23, and by Mr. Laurence Binyon in respect of No. 22—the latter being reprinted in The Winnowing Fan (Elkin Mathews).
The Association desires also to acknowledge the generosity with which authors and publishers have waived or reduced customary copyright fees, in view of the special objects of their organisation. They regret that considerations of copyright have rendered it impossible to include poems by T. E. Brown, Thomas Hardy, W. E. Henley, and A. E. Housman.
{1}
POEMS OF TO-DAY
1. ALL THAT'S PAST
Very old are the woods;
And the buds that break
Out of the briar's boughs,
When March winds wake,
So old with their beauty are—
Oh, no man knows
Through what wild centuries
Roves back the rose.
Very old are the brooks;
And the rills that rise
Where snow sleeps cold beneath
The azure skies
Sing such a history
Of come and gone,
Their every drop is as wise
As Solomon.
Very old are we men;
Our dreams are tales
Told in dim Eden
By Eve's nightingales;
{2}
We wake and whisper awhile,
But, the day gone by,
Silence and sleep like fields
Of amaranth lie.
Walter de la Mare.
2. PRE-EXISTEHCE
I laid me down upon the shore
And dreamed a little space;
I heard the great waves break and roar;
The sun was on my face.
My idle hands and fingers brown
Played with the pebbles grey;
The waves came up, the waves went down,
Most thundering and gay.
The pebbles, they were smooth and round
And warm upon my hands,
Like little people I had found
Sitting among the sands.
The grains of sands so shining-small
Soft through my fingers ran;
The sun shone down upon it all,
And so my dream began:
How all of this had been before;
How ages far away
I lay on some forgotten shore
As here I lie to-day.
{3}
The waves came shining up the
As here to-day they shine;
And in my pre-pelasgian hands
The sand was warm and fine.
I have forgotten whence I came,
Or what my home might be,
Or by what strange and savage name
I called that thundering sea.
I only know the sun shone down
As still it shines to-day,
And in my fingers long and brown
The little pebbles lay.
Frances Cornford.
3. FRAGMENTS
Troy Town is covered up with weeds,
The rabbits and the pismires brood
On broken gold, and shards, and beads
Where Priam's ancient palace stood.
The floors of many a gallant house
Are matted with the roots of grass;
The glow-worm and the nimble mouse
Among her ruins flit and pass.
And there, in orts of blackened bone,
The widowed Trojan beauties lie,
And Simois babbles over stone
And waps and gurgles to the sky.
{4}
Once there were merry days in Troy,
Her chimneys smoked with cooking meals,
The passing chariots did annoy
The sunning housewives at their wheels.
And many a lovely Trojan maid
Set Trojan lads to lovely things;
The game of life was nobly played,
They played the game like Queens and Kings.
So that, when Troy had greatly passed
In one red roaring fiery coal,
The courts the Grecians overcast
Became a city in the soul.
In some green island of the sea,
Where now the shadowy coral grows
In pride and pomp and empery
The courts of old Atlantis rose.
In many a glittering house of glass
The Atlanteans wandered there;
The paleness of their faces was
Like ivory, so pale they were.
And hushed they were, no noise of words
In those bright cities ever rang;
Only their thoughts, like golden birds,
About their chambers thrilled and sang.
They knew all wisdom, for they knew
The souls of those Egyptian Kings
{5}
Who learned, in ancient Babilu,
The beauty of immortal things.
They knew all beauty—when they thought
The air chimed like a stricken lyre,
The elemental birds were wrought,
The golden birds became a fire.
And straight to busy camps and marts
The singing flames were swiftly gone;
The trembling leaves of human hearts
Hid boughs for them to perch upon.
And men in desert places, men
Abandoned, broken, sick with fears,
Rose singing, swung their swords agen,
And laughed and died among the spears.
The green and greedy seas have drowned
That city's glittering walls and towers,
Her sunken minarets are crowned
With red and russet water-flowers.
In towers and rooms and golden courts
The shadowy coral lifts her sprays;
The scrawl hath gorged her broken orts,
The shark doth haunt her hidden ways,
But, at the falling of the tide,
The golden birds still sing and gleam,
The Atlanteans have not died,
Immortal things still give us dream.
{6}
The dream that fires man's heart to make,
To build, to do, to sing or say
A beauty Death can never take,
An Adam from the crumbled clay.
John Masefield.
4. FALLEN CITIES
I gathered with a careless hand,
There where the waters night and day
Are languid in the idle bay,
A little heap of golden sand;
And, as I saw it, in my sight
Awoke a vision brief and bright,
A city in a pleasant land.
I saw no mound of earth, but fair
Turrets and domes and citadels,
With murmuring of many bells;
The spires were white in the blue air,
And men by thousands went and came,
Rapid and restless, and like flame
Blown by their passions here and there.
With careless hand I swept away
The little mound before I knew;
The visioned city vanished too,
And fall'n beneath my fingers lay.
Ah God! how many hast Thou seen,
Cities that are not and have been,
By silent hill and idle bay!
Gerald Gould.
{7}
6. TIME, YOU OLD GIPSY MAN
Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?
All things I'll give you,
Will you be my guest,
Bells for your jennet
Of silver the best,
Goldsmiths shall beat you
A great golden ring,
Peacocks shall bow to you,
Little boys sing,
Oh, and sweet girls will
Festoon you with may,
Time, you old gipsy,
Why hasten away?
Last week in Babylon,
Last night in Rome,
Morning, and in the crush
Under Paul's dome;
Under Paul's dial
You tighten your rein—
Only a moment,
And off once again;
Off to some city
Now blind in the womb,
Off to another
Ere that's in the tomb.
{8}
Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?
Ralph Hodgson.
6. A HUGUENOT
O, a gallant set were they,
As they charged on us that day,
A thousand riding like one!
Their trumpets crying,
And their white plumes flying,
And their sabres flashing in the sun.
O, a sorry lot were we,
As we stood beside the sea,
Each man for himself as he stood!
We were scattered and lonely—
A little force only
Of the good men fighting for the good.
But I never loved more
On sea or on shore
The ringing of my own true blade,
Like lightning it quivered,
And the hard helms shivered,
As I sang, "None maketh me afraid!"
Mary E. Coleridge.
{9}
7. ON THE TOILET TABLE OF QUEEN MARIE-ANTOINETTE
This was her table, these her trim outspread
Brushes and trays and porcelain cups for red;
Here sate she, while her women tired and curled
The most unhappy head in all the world.
J. B. B. Nichols.
8. UPON ECKINGTON BRIDGE, RIVER AVON
O pastoral heart of England! like a psalm
Of green days
O wave into the sunset flowing calm!
O tired lark descending on the wheat!
Lies it all peace beyond that western fold
Where now the lingering shepherd sees his star
Rise upon Malvern? Paints an Age of Gold
Yon cloud with prophecies of linked ease—
Lulling this Land, with hills drawn up like knees,
To drowse beside her implements of war?
Man shall outlast his battles. They have swept
Avon from Naseby Field to Severn Ham;
And Evesham's dedicated stones have stepp'd
Down to the dust with Montfort's oriflamme.
Nor the red tear nor the reflected tower
Abides; but yet these eloquent grooves remain,
Worn in the sandstone parapet hour by hour
By labouring bargemen where they shifted ropes.
E'en so shall man turn back from violent hopes
To Adam's cheer, and toil with spade again.
{10}
Ay, and his mother Nature, to whose lap
Like a repentant child at length he hies,
Not in the whirlwind or the thunder-clap
Proclaims her more tremendous mysteries:
But when in winter's grave, bereft of light,
With still, small voice divinelier whispering
—Lifting the green head of the aconite,
Feeding with sap of hope the hazel-shoot—
She feels God's finger active at the root,
Turns in her sleep, and murmurs of the Spring.
Arthur Quiller-Couch.
8. BY THE STATUE OF KING CHARLES AT CHARING CROSS
Sombre and rich, the skies;
Great glooms, and starry plains.
Gently the night wind sighs;
Else a vast silence reigns.
The splendid silence clings
Around me: and around
The saddest of all kings
Crowned, and again discrowned.
Comely and calm, he rides
Hard by his own Whitehall:
Only the night wind glides:
No crowds, nor rebels, brawl.
Gone, too, his Court; and yet,
The stars his courtiers are:
Stars in their stations set;
And every wandering star.
{11}
Alone he rides, alone,
The fair and fatal king:
Dark night is all his own,
That strange and solemn thing.
Which are more full of fate:
The stars; or those sad eyes?
Which are more still and great:
Those brows; or the dark skies?
Although his whole heart yearn
In passionate tragedy:
Never was face so stern
With sweet austerity.
Vanquished in life, his death
By beauty made amends:
The passing of his breath
Won his defeated ends.
Brief life and hapless? Nay:
Through death, life grew sublime.
Speak after sentence? Yea:
And to the end of time.
Armoured he rides, his head
Bare to the stars of doom:
He triumphs now, the dead,
Beholding London's gloom.
Our wearier spirit faints,
Vexed in the world's employ:
{12}
His soul was of the saints;
And art to him was joy.
King, tried in fires of woe!
Men hunger for thy grace:
And through the night I go,
Loving thy mournful face.
Yet when the city sleeps;
When all the cries are still:
The stars and heavenly deeps
Work out a perfect will.
Lionel Johnson.
10. TO THE FORGOTTEN DEAD
To the forgotten dead,
Come, let us drink in silence ere we part.
To every fervent yet resolvèd heart
That brought its tameless passion and its tears,
Renunciation and laborious years,
To lay the deep foundations of our race,
To rear its stately fabric overhead
And light its pinnacles with golden grace.
To the unhonoured dead.
To the forgotten dead,
Whose dauntless hands were stretched to grasp the rein
Of Fate and hurl into the void again
Her thunder-hoofed horses, rushing blind
Earthward along the courses of the wind.
{13}
Among the stars, along the wind in vain
Their souls were scattered and their blood was shed,
And nothing, nothing of them doth remain.
To the thrice-perished dead.
Margaret L. Woods.
11. DRAKE'S DRUM
Drake he's in his hammock an' a thousand mile away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships,
Wi' sailor-lads a-dancin' heel-an'-toe,
An' the shore-lights flashin', an' the night-tide dashin',
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago.
Drake he was a Devon man, an' ruled the Devon seas,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Rovin' tho' his death fell, he went wi' heart at ease,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
"Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low;
If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,
An' drum them up the Channel as we drummed them long ago."
Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas come,
(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below?)
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,
An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
{14}
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe;
Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin'
They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found him long ago!
Henry Newbolt.
12. THE MOON IS UP
The moon is up: the stars are bright
The wind is fresh and free!
We're out to seek for gold to-night
Across the silver sea!
The world was growing grey and old:
Break out the sails again!
We're out to seek a Realm of Gold
Beyond the Spanish Main.
We're sick of all the cringing knees,
The courtly smiles and lies!
God, let Thy singing Channel breeze
Lighten our hearts and eyes!
Let love no more be bought and sold
For earthly loss or gain;
We're out to seek an Age of Gold
Beyond the Spanish Main.
Beyond the light of far Cathay,
Beyond all mortal dreams,
Beyond the reach of night and day
Our El Dorado gleams,
{15}
Revealing—as the skies unfold—
A star without a stain,
The Glory of the Gates of Gold
Beyond the Spanish Main.
Alfred Noyes.
Sitting at times over a hearth that burns
With dull domestic glow,
My thought, leaving the book, gratefully turns
To you who planned it so.
Not of the great only you deigned to tell—
The stars by which we steer—
But lights out of the night that flashed, and fell
To night again, are here.
Such as were those, dogs of an elder day,
Who sacked the golden ports,
And those later who dared grapple their prey
Beneath the harbour forts:
Some with flag at the fore, sweeping the world
To find an equal fight,
And some who joined war to their trade, and hurled
Ships of the line in flight.
Whether their fame centuries long should ring
They cared not over-much,
But cared greatly to serve God and the king,
And keep the Nelson touch;
{16}
And fought to build Britain above the tide
Of wars and windy fate;
And passed content, leaving to us the pride
Of lives obscurely great.
Henry Newbolt.
14. MUSING ON A GREAT SOLDIER
Fear? Yes . . . I heard you saying
In an Oxford common-room
Where the hearth-light's kindly raying
Stript the empanelled walls of gloom,
Silver groves of candles playing
In the soft wine turned to bloom—
At the word I see you now
Blandly push the wine-boat's prow
Round the mirror of that scored
Yellow old mahogany board—
I confess to one fear! this,
To be buried alive!
My Lord,
Your fancy has played amiss.
Fear not. When in farewell
While guns toll like a bell
And the bell tolls like a gun
Westminster towers call
Folk and state to your funeral,
And robed in honours won,
Beneath the cloudy pall
Of the lifted shreds of glory
{17}
You lie in the last stall
Of that grey dormitory—
Fear not lest mad mischance
Should find you lapt and shrouded
Alive in helpless trance
Though seeming death-beclouded:
For long ere so you rest
On that transcendent bier
Shall we not have addressed
One summons, one last test,
To your reluctant ear?
O believe it! we shall have uttered
In ultimate entreaty
A name your soul would hear
Howsoever thickly shuttered;
We shall have stooped and muttered
England! in your cold ear. . . .
Then, if your great pulse leap
No more, nor your cheek burn,
Enough; then shall we learn
'Tis time for us to weep.
Herbert Trench.
16. HE FELL AMONG THIEVES
"Ye have robbed," said he, "ye have slaughtered and made an end,
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead;
What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?"
"Blood for our blood," they said.
{18}
He laughed: "If one may settle the score for five,
I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive."
"You shall die at dawn," said they.
He flung his empty revolver down the slope,
He climb'd alone to the Eastward edge of the trees;
All night long in a dream untroubled of hope
He brooded, clasping his knees.
He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills
The ravine where the Yassin river sullenly flows;
He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills,
Or the far Afghan snows.
He saw the April noon on his books aglow,
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide;
He heard his father's voice from the terrace below
Calling him down to ride.
He saw the gray little church across the park,
The mounds that hid the loved and honoured dead;
The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark,
The brasses black and red.
He saw the School Close, sunny and green,
The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall,
The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between
His own name over all.
{19}
He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof,
The long tables, and the faces merry and keen;
The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof,
The Dons on the daïs serene.
He watch'd the liner's stem ploughing the foam,
He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw;
He heard her passengers' voices talking of home,
He saw the flag she flew.
And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet,
And strode to his ruin'd camp below the wood;
He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet;
His murderers round him stood.
Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast,
The blood-red snow-peaks chilled to a dazzling white;
He turn'd, and saw the golden circle at last,
Cut by the eastern height.
"O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun,
I have lived, I praise and adore Thee."
A sword swept.
Over the pass the voices one by one
Faded, and the hill slept.
Henry Newbolt.
{20}
16. ENGLAND
Shall we but turn from braggart pride
Our race to cheapen and defame?
Before the world to wail, to chide,
And weakness as with vaunting claim?
Ere the hour strikes, to abdicate
The steadfast spirit that made us great,
And rail with scolding tongues at fate?
If England's heritage indeed
Be lost, be traded quite away
For fatted sloth and fevered greed;
If, inly rotting, we decay;
Suffer we then what doom we must,
But silent, as befits the dust
Of them whose chastisement was just.
But rather, England, rally thou
Whatever breathes of faith that still
Within thee keeps the undying vow
And dedicates the constant will.
For such yet lives, if not among
The boasters, or the loud of tongue,
Who cry that England's knell is rung.
The fault of heart, the small of brain,
In thee but their own image find;
Beyond such thoughts as these contain
A mightier Presence is enshrined.
Nor meaner than their birthright grown
Shall these thy latest sons be shown,
So thou but use them for thine own.
{21}
By those great spirits burning high
In our home's heaven, that shall be stars
To shine, when all is history
And rumour of old, idle wars;
By all those hearts which proudly bled
To make
The living, the triumphant dead;
By all who suffered and stood fast
That Freedom might the weak uphold,
And in men's ways of wreck and waste
Justice her awful flower unfold;
By all who out of grief and wrong
In passion's art of noble song
Made Beauty to our speech belong;
By those adventurous ones who went
Forth overseas, and, self-exiled,
Sought from far isle and continent
Another England in the wild,
For whom no drums beat, yet they fought
Alone, in courage of a thought
Which an unbounded future wrought;
Yea, and yet more by those to-day
Who toil and serve for naught of gain,
That in thy purer glory they
May melt their ardour and their pain;
By these and by the faith of these,
The faith that glorifies and frees,
Thy lands call on thee, and thy seas.
{22}
If thou hast sinned, shall we forsake
Thee, or the less account us thine?
Thy sores, thy shames on us we take.
Flies not for us thy famed ensign?
Be ours to cleanse and to atone;
No man this burden bears alone;
England, our best shall be thine own.
Lift up thy cause into the light!
Put all the factious lips to shame!
Our loves, our faiths, our hopes unite
And strike into a single flame!
Whatever from without betide,
O purify the soul of pride
In us; thy slumbers cast aside;
And of thy sons be justified!
Laurence Binyon.
17. THE VOLUNTEER
"He leapt to arms unbidden,
Unneeded, over-bold;
His face by earth is hidden,
His heart in earth is cold.
"Curse on the reckless daring
That could not wait the call,
The proud fantastic bearing
That would be first to fall!"
{23}
O tears of human passion,
Blur not the image true;
This was not folly's fashion,
This was the man we knew.
Henry Newbolt.
18. MANY SISTERS TO MANY BROTHERS
When we fought campaigns (in the long Christmas rains)
With soldiers spread in troops on the floor,
I shot as straight as you, my losses were as few,
My victories as many, or more.
And when in naval battle, amid cannon's rattle,
Fleet met fleet in the bath,
My cruisers were as trim, my battleships as grim,
My submarines cut as swift a path.
Or, when it rained too long, and the strength of the strong
Surged up and broke a way with blows,
I was as fit and keen, my fists hit as clean,
Your black eye matched my bleeding nose.
Was there a scrap or ploy in which you, the boy,
Could better me? You could not climb higher,
Ride straighter, run as quick (and to smoke made you sick)
. . . But I sit here, and you're under fire.
Oh, it's you that have the luck, out there in blood and muck:
You were born beneath a kindly star;
{24}
All we dreamt, I and you, you can really go and do,
And I can't, the way things are.
In a trench you are sitting, while I am knitting
A hopeless sock that never gets done.
Well, here's luck, my dear;—and you've got it, no fear;
But for me . . . a war is poor fun.
Rose Macaulay.