ONE THOUSAND FAMOUS THINGS SOI
A Little Soy in the Morning
HE will not come, and still I wait.
He whistles at another gate
Where angels listen. Ah5 I know
He will not come,, yet If I go
How shall I know he did not pass
Barefooted In the flowery grass ?
The moon leans on one silver horn
Above the silhouettes of morn,
And from their nest sills finches whistle
Or, stooping, pluck the downy thistle.
How is the morn so gay and fair
Without his whistling in its air ?
The world is calling., I must go.
How shall I know he did not pass
Barefooted in the shining grass ?
Francis Ledwidge
A Young Marts Prayer
BY all the glories of the day
And the cool evening's benison,
By that last sunset touch that lay
Upon the hills when day was dones
By beauty lavishly outpoured
And blessings carelessly received,
By all the days that I have lived,
Make me a soldier, Lord.
By all of all man's hopes and fears
And all the wonders poets sing,
The laughter of unclouded years
And every sad and lovely thing,
By the romantic ages stored
With high endeavour that was his*
By all his mad catastrophes,
Make me a man, O Ix>rd»
I, that on my familiar hill
Saw with uncomprehending eyes
A hundred of Thy sunsets spill
Their fresh and sanguine sacrifice,
Ere the sun. swings his noonday sword,
Must say goodbye to all of this :
By all delights that I shall miss,
Help me to diey O Lord.
William Noel Hodgson two days before he fell in France