Plain song, 1914-1916

PLAI N SONG

1914-1916
EDEN PHILLPOTTS

Cornell University
Library

The original of tiiis book is in
tine Cornell University Library.

There are no known copyright restrictions in
the United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013536051

Cornell University Library
PR 5177.P6 1917

Plain song, 1914-1916.

3 1924 013 536 051

PLAIN SONG

PLAIN SONG

1914-1916

BY

EDEN PHILLPOTTS

AUTHOR or " WILD FRUIT," *' THE GIRL AND THE TAUN,'
" DANCE OF THE MONTHS," ETC. J

NEW YORK
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

MCMXVII

£.y.

la

Printed in Gre<U Britain.

CONTENTS

PAGE

I AUGUST 4, 1914 I

II A SONG OF EMPIRE 4

III GERMANIA 7

IV THE MOTHER QUESTIONS 9

V TO BELGIUM 11

VI CIVILISATION TO ALL STATES .... 12

VII REASON AND HONOUR 14

VIII SONG OF THE SONS 18

IX HATE AND HEALING 20

X ON THE YSER 22

XI WAR 25

XII WINTER NIGHT 31

XIII THE GERMAN PYRES 33

XIV PALINODE 36

XV SONG OF THE RED CROSS 37

XVI TO ONE WHO CANNOT LOOK ON BLOOD . . 39

XVII TO A MOTHER 41

XVIII A HYMN OF WAR 42

XIX IN MEMORY OF GOETHE 44

XX SALUTE 47

PAGE

XXI THE FREEDOM OF THE SEA .... 50

XXII TO THE NAVY 52

XXIII THE WILL TO POWER 53

XXIV SPRING 56

XXV MARCH FOR THE NEW RECRUITS ... 59

XXVI TWO IN ONE 62

XXVII FRANCE 63

XXVIII EDITH CAVELL .64

XXIX IN GALLIPOLI 66

XXX TO RUPERT BROOKE 69

XXXI VERDUN 71

XXXII UNTO THIS LAST 73

XXXIII THE WORN GRASS 7S

XXXIV DEATH AND THE FLOWERS .... 76
XXXV EARTH TO MOON 78

XXXVI TO THE PACIFISTS 81

XXXVII WAR SHALL NOT CEASE 84

XXXVIII REVEILLfe 86

vm

August the Fourth
1914

A PEACE beyond all word to tell,
Abode where woodlands bade
Good-bye to day through dene and dell.
Beneath the immemorial spell
Of night's returning shade.

The crepuscule slid still and slow

Along that ancient chace ;
Died the last dream of after-glow
And one great star hung red and low

On heaven's dim, green face.

Behind the clearing where I stood.
Light woke and widened higher.

Then, flinging ofF her rosy hood,
Swam very white above the wood
A moon of silver fire.

Like emeralds beside the way

Their lamps the glow-worms lit.
And suddenly a shadow grey
Flew overhead, to swoop and play.

And on the moonlight flit.

He throbbed and throbbed, then took his flight.

But soon, with steady whirr,
Again, in rapture and delight.
Lulled to a whisper on the night.

The churn-owl purred his purr.

Deep in the down of heaven's breast

Earth, like a, weary child.
Sank drowsier, drowsier into rest ;
And still the moon above that nest

Upheld her taper mild.

The red star sank, the truce, or trance,

By Nature sanctified,
Thought shattered ; memory's sharp lance
Pierced peace ; of inner dissonance

The magic moment died.

The red star sank and passed and fell

Upon his journey's end.
O ancient Night, would ye could quell
That star of Erebus and hell

This day hath seen ascend.

II

A Song of Empire

Child of old ocean, daughter of the main

Her continents, her isles, her far-flung seas

Circle the earth with sacred liberties.

All guard the right of each and so maintain

That many-peopled realm within one golden chain.

Her throne deep-founded in the stormy past.
Where mighty vanished spirits fought and bled
That she might nobler live; on her fair head
The close-shut diadem that shall outlast
All onset, still she reigns, inviolate and vast.

Earth's secret haunts and desolate places know
That steadfast might, for they have felt and seen

4

Her sane numanity, her rule serene ;

And marked how men or nations, high and low,

Shall ever reap again the harvest that they sow.

The multitudinous seas that beat and roll
Upon the bosom of the good round world.
Have borne her dazzling gonfalons unfurled,
Have read upon her ancient aureole
One glorious unity, one hope, one heart, one soul.

Let but a sudden, evil threat assail
Her wide fraternity of freedom ; throw
A shadow of some dark approaching woe
Unon her oeace. the clarion of her hail

The frontier fires that burned so still and clear
Men thought them dying, at an envious breath
Burst in red rage and scatter dreadful death ;
Join hands of flame across the hemisphere ;
Leap heaven-high to wake a coward tyrant's fear.

And even the self-same brand that sears his brow.

Melting the nations' hearts, welding in one

Our Empire of the snows and of the sun,

Shall all her principalities endow

With &uch a gift as man hath never known till now.

Ill

Germania

Surgeon her, world ! Let myriad scalpels bright
Flash in her sores with all thy bitter might,

So that their aching cease.
Cut clean the cursed canker that doth foul
Her spirit ; tent and cleanse her sorry soul,

And give her bosom peace.

We do not smite a nation, but a pest ;
Humanity makes reasonable quest

To free a noble slave.
Full deep she groans and faints, and fainting feels
Archaic torture of a tyrant's heels

Grinding her to her grave,

7

Possessed of devils now, mad with her woes,

She wounds the world and turns her friends to foes ;

But cast her devils down
And broken, humbled, contrite, healed and sane
Oh may she shine her glorious self again —

Pearl in Europa's crown.

And they accurs'd, who bred this in her heart,
Shall from the councils of mankind depart.

While over sea and shore
The silver trumpets of the sunrise cry
That earth pursue her solemn destiny

By blood and iron no more.

IV
The Mother Questions

Old Lion, art thou sleeping.

And must my holy keeping
Fall to thy scattered cubs from many a distant strand ?

Shall my white shore's salvation

From utmost desecration.
Be won by heroes who have never seen my land ?

Where bursting, far asunder.
The solemn, sudden thunder
Of hosts awakened meets and rolls upon the night,
Their Mother's heart rejoices
To hear those myriad voices
Hurtling in one vast peal of mingled wrath and

[might.
9

England ! What evil showing,

What undreamed outrage growing
Is this they whisper now ? Shall sea-borne kinsmen

While ye with palsy quaking [come,

And coward hearts all shaking,
Watch her Dominions guard thy ancient Mother's

[home ?

Shall sons from over-sea

Strike nobler blows for me
Than my own millions ? Shall the unborn attest

That this page of my story

Burns golden with the glory
Of all my men on earth save those in my own breast ?

10

To Belgium

Champion of human honour, let us lave

Your feet and bind your wounds on bended knee.

Though coward hands have nailed you to the tree

And shed your innocent blood and dug your grave,

Rejoice and live ! Your oriflamme shall wave —

While man has power to perish and be free —

A golden flame of holiest Liberty,

Proud as the dawn and as the sunset brave.

Belgium, where dwelleth reverence for right
Enthroned above all ideals ; where your fate
And your supernal patience and your might
Most sacred grow in human estimate.
You shine a star above this stormy night
Little no more, but infinitely great.

II

VI

Civilisation to all States

They rend my jewels from me ; they confound
My patient genius of a thousand years ;
They flood my steps with poison, yea they wound
And stab my hopes and fill my heart with fears.
Slaying my brightest dreams, drowning my world in

[tears.

Lies are their weapons ; treachery their lance,

And stark brute force the watchword of their might.

Neutrality before this devils' dance ?

ye who stand for justice, ruth and right

Lift up your eyes and see ; lift up your souls and

[smite.

1 summon not the levin of your swords,
Nor tremble for my ultimate sanctity;

But I demand the thunder of your words —

12

Your deep-mouthed rage against this rape of me —
I, who created you and made you great and free.

Fear not, ye States, to let the guilty know

Ye hold his hope my grave, his flag my shroud.

Strike with your spirits' sword ! Strike such a blow

Humanity acclaims it ; cry aloud.

Ye nations I have blessed, ye lands I have endowed.

Neutrality ? Where are the human souls
Unmoved can mark the suffering on my face,
And see the tide of innocent blood that rolls
To redden my white vesture ? A disgrace
Would blot the living page of neutral heart, or race.

Who dare bide dumb when war's two-edged knife
Gleams at my bosom ? Who shall not be brave
While death of heroes quickens every life ?
Then wake and honour them who toil to save
My emblems from the dust ; my spirit from the

[grave.

»3

VII

Reason and Honour

Was not the bounty of the grape and corn,

Burned into ripeness by a summer sped.

Harvest enough without all they have borne

In their own aching flesh and from their bosoms fed ?

Shall they, the mothers of the time to be,
Create for nothing but a league-long grave,
That swallows up their immortality
And hideous yawns across a kingdom while they

[rave ?

'Tis they who forge the bolt, when nations chafe
And howl their battle cries of right and wrong ;
'Tis they who lead the mighty armies safe
To manhood's threshold, brave and beautiful and

[strong.
14

For death's the only answer that we make
When hungry kingdoms rise and fall on strife,
While one insensate spirit's will can break
The wide world's peace, and drain her holy founts

[of life.

And still the grandest death that man may die
Is held the death of war, at some great need
Beyond all human reason's power to try.
Since honour often spurns her sister, reason's rede.

For reason's dumb when honour's thirsty blade

Doth signal to the universe how man

Remains so blind, so faltering, so afraid

That carnage yet controls his highest hope and plan.

But reason, guarding well her golden light.
Denies that he shall ever sate his dearth
Like wolf or tiger ; wills such futile might
Anon be banned and thrust from off the blessed earth.

15

She dawns upon the darkness of our eyes ;
Reveals that war can only hurl us back
On hostile values ; whispers to the wise
How virtue in the fed is vice to them that lack.

Virtue and vice are names, not qualities,
And when the baffled cry that might is right,
No smug opinion from the unconscious skies
For doubtful virtue's sake shall hold them to their

[plight.

All nations live by ideals ; but in need

They linger with no ethic obsolete ;

They bend the knee to no unfriendly creed ;

But tramp their values firm beneath an army's feet.

Remains to man this everlasting truth :
That for his sure defence and steadfast guide,
Reason and honour, by the way of ruth.
Shall yet march, hand in hand, and onward, side by

[side.
i6

Again the world is meeting might with might.
And when the battle's fought and lost and won,
Pray victory decree, as primal right.
That reason also wins a kingdom in the sun.

Then shall she swiftly, for our world-wide shame.
Bend to the Mother from her starry place
And, in humanity's almighty name.
For ever dry the tears upon that sacred face.

17

VIII

Song of the Sons

England's your Mother ! Let your life acclaim
Her precious heart's blood flowing in your heart ;
Take ye the thunder of her solemn name
Upon your lips with reverence ; play your part

By word and deed

To shield and speed
The far-flung splendour of her ancient fame.

England's your Mother ! Shall not you, her child,
Quicken the everlasting fires that glow
Upon your birthright's altar ? England smiled
Beside your cradle, trusting you to show.

With manhood's might.

The undying light
That points the road her freeborn spirits go.
i8

England's your Mother ! Man, forget it not
Wherever on the wide-wayed earth your fate
Calls you to labour ; whatsoe'er your lot —
In service, or in power, in stress or state —

Whate'er betide.

With humble pride.
Remember ! By your Mother you are great.

England's your Mother ! What though dark the day
Above the storm-swept frontier that you tread ?
Her vanished children throng the glorious way;
A myriad legions of her living dead —

Those starry trains

That shared your pains —
Shall set their crown of light upon your head.

England's your Mother ! When the race is run
And you are called to leave your life and die,
Small matter what is lost, so this be won:
And after-glow of blessed memory.

Gracious and pure,

In witness sure
" England was this man's Mother: he, her son."

19

IX

Hate and Healing

Archaic ones, who dreamed a naked sword
Was greater than all greatness — greater far
Than nations' promises, than solemn word.
Than bond and oath, unto what bloody star
Do you look now to win your misbegotten war ?

" God punish England " ! If a god's your might ;

If in omnipotence you put your trust ;

Think you That needs your guidance where to smite,

Destroy the malefactor for his lust.

Save righteousness and bring unrighteousness to dust ?

Hate only wounds the hater — throws from gear
The will to power and blinds the keenest eye ;
Dulls the most delicate passage of the car ;
20

Quickens the heart to fainting. Mastery
Is born of continence, not passion run awry.

Hate flings a shadow, and to-day ye stand
Fumbling in your own darkness. Ye are sped !
Out of the dayspring, upon either hand.
Above the silent myriads who bled.
There flashes, fierce and far, a signal overhead.

Your hate hath welded us and knit us strong,

Brought us by many marches nearer goal —

One living Empire ; while a futile song

Its croaking, mediseval curse shall roll

In waves of bitterness between you and your soul.

" Man heal Germania " ! Through her coming

[dearth,
Through the tenebrous path that she must tread,
Through the stark reckoning with outraged earth.
Through the dim cloisters of her woe and dread,
Lead her unto the light, as you would fain be led.

21

X
On the Yser

They are coming, like a tempest, in their endless

[ranks of grey,
While the world throws up a cloud of dust upon

[their awful way ;
They're the glorious cannon fodder of the mighty

[Fatherland,
Born to make the kingdoms tremble and the nations

[understand.

Tramp ! Tramp ! Tramp ! the cannon fodder come
Along their way to Calais ; (God help the hearth

[and home.)
They'll do his will who taught them, on the earth

[and on the waves,
Till land and sea are festering with their unnumbered

[graves.

22

The garrison, the barrack and the fortress gave them

[vent ;
They sweep, a herd of winter wolves, upon the flying

[scent ;
For all their deeds of horror they are told that death

[atones.
And their master's harvest cannot spring till he has

[sowed their bones.

Into beasts of prey he's turned them ; when they

[show their teeth and growl
The lash is buried in their cheeks ; they're slaugh-

[tered if they howl ;
To their bloody Lord of Battles must they only bend

[the knee.
For hard as steel and fierce as hell should cannon

[fodder be.

Drift ! Drift ! Drift ! the cannon fodder go
Upon their way to Calais ; (God feed the carrion

[crow.)
23

They've done his will who taught them that the

[Germans shall be slaves,
Till land and sea are festering with their unnumbered

[graves.

24

XI

War

What do we taste of war — we who repine
Because our trivial usage threats to fail ;
We, who knee-deep in news sheets dare to whine
About our money bags, we orts that wail.
And cry this should not be, and that is wrong
Because our neighbour may escape the pinch ?
Far, far from us is whirling war's red thong :
Our shoulders have not stung beneath one bloody

[inch.

And what know they of war who weave all war.
Whose night-spun web entraps a nation's life
For death to suck ? They fatten as before ;
Not unto them the shambles, or the strife,

25

But fame and honour and the bended knee.
We cap to them, their cup of glory fill.
And fling our blessed manhood's destiny
Beneath their cloven feet to do their soulless will.

There lurks the Minotaur who must be fed —
The hidden, evil thing that all unknown
Counts up our children for its daily bread.
Listens indifferent to a nation's groan.
While men toil on the old appointed way,
Little they dream their sacred rulers herd
And swill to the black dawn of their death day.
When myriads shall fall at one man's broken word.

Again the bale fires roar and heroes rise.

Suborned by devilry, they arm to fight

And pay for others' greed and craft and lies

With all their youthful strength and adult might.

For principalities and powers have wrought

A net of death that neither breaks nor parts

Until within its iron mesh is caught

The generation's hope, the rival Kingdoms' hearts.

26

When yellow locusts swarm upon the earth,
Worse than a hurricane they sweep their way —
Before them plenty and behind them dearth ;
And not the might, nor wit, of man can stay
Their hosts uncounted — not a flame of fire ;
For while a million million burn, the glow
That hindered their invincible desire.
Is spanned with sharded dead ; and over that they go.

Men who march thus upon the red-hot hell
Of battle joined ; men flung to bear the brunt
Where vanguard legions, to their cannon knell,
Tolling along a sudden, fire-gashed front,
Face indiscriminate, impartial death.
Fall like the rain and perish corps by corps,
While living comrades trample out their breath —
These men are they who know the naked truth of war.

And they know war who freeze and drown and moil
And breathe the air of corpses and breed lice ;
Foul to the aching eyes with filth they toil —
Brothers, perchance, who made the sacrifice.

27

Thigh-deep in slough they stand, where, like a den,
Opens the trench of torment ; for a space
They fire and load and fire and load ; and then
One brother's mangled heart splashes the other's face.

And she knows war who flies before its shade —
A mother with a daughter crucified,
And husband slain, that strove to save his maid,
Cursed the unkennelled brute and cursing died.
Her heart burned in the ashes of her home.
She moves — all roads alike until the end —
The best, the shortest that shall let her come
Into the arms of death, her sole remaining friend.

And they know war — the men upon the field

Beneath the Cross of Red, who seek to find

Their newly-fallen harvest, count the yield —

How many sheaves to garner and to bind.

Did that heap move ? Did that humped horror sigh ?

A sudden shell has smote them, where they strive —

They too, the saviours, even they must die

And shed their innocent life on brothers still alive.

28

And they know war who, shattered, rent in twain.
Their living fragments still with power to think,
Half men, drag carnal rags to yonder drain
Raging for water, ravening for drink
Though it be blood. The^r last expiring lust
Denied them, there a little while they roll.
Unseen, unheard, upon the reeking dust
In final agony of flesh and mind and soul.

To this the pomp and splendour of it come
Behind the burden of their country's yoke.
Behind the bravery, behind the drum.
Behind the Fetich that they all invoke :
Life, sacred life, without one pang of ruth,
In mad contempt of human sanctity.
Squandered for doubtful honour, doubtful truth —
All doubtful, save the scorn at frantic reason's plea.

Spirit of Nations, when another peace
From this red womb is brought unto the birth.
Bid intrigue perish, secret councils cease ;
Scourge your diplomacy from off the earth.

«9

Drag the dark spinners into heaven's light ;
Leave not to them the shedding of your blood.
That liberty may dawn upon this night
The chancellaries cleanse with furious fire and flood.

Smite their archaic cunning, scour, erase,
Crush hidden plot and open infamy,
Where each man, smiling in the other's face,
Speaks comfortable words to hide the lie.
Let covenant be signed and set the seal
By you, who count and pay the bitter cost ;
Will future hope and everlasting weal
Hang on no monstrous game that knaves have won

[or lost.

Arm to the teeth since that's the market price

Of peace ; train up your armies ; build your ships ;

Live all for discipline and sacrifice

If oiily thus your reason 'scape eclipse.

Forge iron chains to bind man's oath to man ;

Mix iron with the little children's bread,

Till righteousness find friends to help her plan

A loftier, holier way for human feet to tread.
30

XII

Winter Night

Roams the East wind across a midnight sky
And shapes of cloud, transparent, curdled, white,
Like homing spirits take their lowly flight
Before his breath ; but glittering on high
A throb of winter stars doth chequer heaven with

[light.

Here, underneath the Hunter, all is still
And silver Sirius sparkles at his feet ;
While nearer, children of the earth, they fleet —
Those sad, etiolate clouds along the hill —
As though our dead returned their native land to

[greet.
31

How may one slumber, how the curtain close
And shut them out and turn to blessed rest,
While panging like a poison in the breast,
Their agony for ever flows and flows ?
By day, by night they fall, our bravest and our best.

O little clouds, the stars ye cannot hide
Yet shadow in your impotence a plea
Mightier than all the night's immensity
Hath power to conjure of her pomp and pride :
The claim of men who die that man may still go

[free.

Your vapours sink to earth ; down from his height.
Flashing red gold, each ancient star departs ;
Chill Eurus droops at dawn's approaching darts ;
For clouds and stars and winds shall pass with night ;
The ever-living dead shine on within our hearts.

32

XIII
The German Pyres

(On the Russian Front)

Forests of withered pine upon old night
Heave funeral black against the starless skies ;
Before their feet a river raves and cries,
Her torrent gashed with ice and stained with blood,
.Where the dead roll and wallow in her flood ;
And red fires splash the strand with blots of dusky

[light.

The fuel of those flames that gulp and roar
And gild the snow and lick the ancient trees —
Fretting their bearded boughs, scorching their

[knees —
The furnace food that wakes this fiery breath
Is flesh of many men one drove to death
Beside the waves that lap this woodland dim and

[hoar.
D 33

XIV
Palinode

(On the Death of Lord Roberts)

You that were just and yet too great to claim
Justice that we denied ; you that were right ;
You without fear, without reproach, whose aim
Was peace and concord ; you whose warning came
To deaf and blind ; we thank the stars that night
Fell not upon you till a blinding light
Revealed the uttermost glory of your fame.
And proved your watchword : Might must muzzle

[might.
You would have saved your land this agony.
You who foretold, with trumpet voice and clear,
The sands were running and the hour was near.
Now at your grave a Nation bends the knee
Knowing full well that, could the vanished hear,
A hero's pardon should it have from thee.
36

XV
Song of the Red Cross

O GRACIOUS ones, we bless your name

Upon our bended knee ;
The voice of love with tongue of flame

Records your charity.
Your hearts, your lives right willingly ye gave,

That sacred ruth might shine ;
Ye fell, bright spirits, brave amongst the brave.

Compassionate, divine.

Example from your lustrous deeds

The conqueror shall take.
Sowing sublime and fruitful seeds

Of aidos in this ache.
And when our griefs have passed on gloomy wing.

When friend and foe are sped,

37

Sons of a morning to be born shall sing

The radiant Cross of Red ;
Sons of a morning to be born shall sing

The radiant Cross of Red.

3818

XVI
To one that cannot look on Blood

If it be true, oh Sire, that human blood
Doth havoc to your nature, doth unseat
Your will to consciousness ; if the red flood
Be more than your imperial eye can meet,
Where shall you turn your gaze and set your feet ?

They who dig springs to bid a river flow
Never fear water ; they who worship strife,
Yet dread to see the impact of each blow
Loosen our sacred fount of human life.
Should follow peace, nor draw a tyrant's knife.

Think you none other hates to mark the tide
Whereon a soul is swept to the unknown ?
Think you none other faints when men have dyed
The earth with sacred life blood of their own ?
Shall horror at that flood strike you alone ?

39

The world is drowning, an ensanguined stream
Dabbles Europa's raiment, stains her breast.
Rocks the bright throne whereon you reigned

[supreme —
Blood, from the north and east and south and west.
Billows in one great wave on your unrest.

Blood will have blood, and in the immortal name

Of Liberty there comes a day at last

Shall burst your heart for grief and human shame.

Till stricken, execrated and outcast —

A ghost of bale, you haunt the bitter past.

40

XVII

To a Mother

Robbed mother of the stricken Motherland —
Two hearts in one and one among the dead,
Before your grave with an uncovered head
I, that am man, disquiet and silent stand
In reverence. It is your blood they shed ;
It is your sacred self that they demand.
For one you bore in joy and hope, and planned
Would make yourself eternal, now has fled.

But though you yielded him unto the knife
And altar with a royal sacrifice
Of your most precious self and dearer life —
Your master gem and pearl above all price —
Content you ; for the dawn this night restores
Shall be the dayspring of his soul and yours.

41

XVIII

A Hymn of War

Glory be to man on high,
Glory to the hearts that ache,
Glory be to them who die
For humanity's own sake.
Nations lift their voice to nations ;
Hemispheres resound the call ;
Kingdoms wheel unto their stations ;
Empires totter to the fall.

Glory be to man on high

With his face turned from the night

Human love for majesty.

Human reason for his might.

Glory be to man on high.
Guardian of immortal mind,

42

With triumphant destiny
In the keeping of mankind ;
Fighting through a stormy gloaming
From his primal shadow cast,
Yet unconquerably homing
To the dayspring fire at last.

Glory be to man on high
With his face turned to the light :
Human love for majesty.
Human reason for his might.

43

XIX

In Memory of Goethe

GiRMANiA, your antiphonies of scorn

Have beat upon us even as the sea

With many a brine-capped legion, heaped and torn

From out her infinite immensity.

But neither may her surges violate,

Nor the barbed bitterness of all your hate.

To fling a sister nation in the dust.

You pour your children's blood with drunken hands ;

You waste a generation for your lust

And widow in your passion innocent lands.

To blot and end our story for all time

You loose a hurricane of fruitless crime.

44

Our faults are many ; them we contrite own ;
But such the ambit of our destiny.
Hatred of race this land hath seldom known :
Her higher hope to set the nations free
Upon a field where all may glean and bind —
The far, unfrontiered Kingdom of Mankind.

There lies an ideal worthy of the soul :
That man, for that he is a man, shall stand
More sacred, more sublime, than any goal
Of hallowed, native blood, or native land.
Accursed be all boundaries that part
Our patriot brothers of the human heart.

Your vanished ones whom starry Fame hath crowned.

Set mercy above sacrifice ; the call

Of their immortal clarions you have drowned

With brazen din of " Teuton over all ! "

O Fatherland, a still small voice of ruth

Louder than cannon tells the eternal truth.

45

Learn this : that when upon your soil we come,

No hate shall scorch your forehead from our eyes ;

No desecration shall deface your home ;

No sacrifice defile your sanctities ;

Your women shall not rave and shriek to God

Where, conquerors, we stand upon your sod.

But justice in the sight of outraged man
Must surely be ; and may the wide world rise
Upon the rainbow of pure reason's span
To guard our wounded planet's destinies
With such a peace that, where its light is shed.
Awaken precious flowers above the dead.

And our revenge shall be to bid you hear
Ineffable music from the olden time :
Symphonies that ascended, sweet and clear.
Making men's hearts, like bells, together chime :
The pjean of humanity that rolled
To us from you on ancient harps of gold.

46

XX

Salute

(To our New Armies)

My brothers, forth in splendid might,
Since you have claimed your destiny.
Where sacred honour and stern right
Together willed that it must be.
Twice armed you pass before our eyes :
With strength and holy sacrifice.

We know that in your Nation's name
You take the solemn burden up,
And not for joy and not for fame
Lift to your lips the bitter cup.
The cry of your own blood it is
That calls your legions unto this.

4/

We know full well, ambitions great
Hid in your heart and lit your mind ;
How each had hoped to carve his fate
And individual triumph find ;
And seeing you go side by side
Your country's eyes are dim with pride.

But no such triumph had ye won.
Nor victory of such pure worth,
From rise of sun to set of sun
Upon the land that gave you birth,
As this triumphant act of grace
And offering before her face.

Higher than your own genius ; higher

Than any gleam of your own light ;

Or any flash of your own fire.

It is to mingle and unite

With thrice a million of the free

In one great Will to Liberty,

48

And though familiar self you lose.
Another new-born self you find —
A spirit self that self renews.
Your lamp before your kith and kind
Is shining, and your gift of days
Stands consecrate above all praise.

My Brothers, an immortal deed
Now lights the glorious path you tread,
While triune Kingdoms cry " Good speed,
Good speed," upon each precious head.
Sweep on, and let the wide world see
Your voluntary majesty !

49

XXI

The Freedom of the Sea

They stain the immaculate deep with innocent blood ;

They kill the nursing mother and her child ;

Their misbegotten crimes on ebb and flood

With infamy have curdled and defiled

The sweet, salt waves of ocean, while their plea

Is our august ideal : the Freedom of the Sea.

Shall the red story of the Spanish Main,

In reeling horror and damnation grim

By their command be acted o'er again ?

Shall the blue waters at our ramparts' rim

Beat bloody on old England and cry out

The German freedom they do lust to bring about ?

5°

Fate will not yet that one egregious race,

Still harbouring within its savage soul

A dream of dead barbarians, disgrace

The seas — the seven cleansing seas that roll

Upon the round earth's breast. She judges them

By what they vent and void upon the deep sea's hem.

Tyrants, learn first the Freedom of the Earth,
The rights of nations and the right of man —
Heir to the sacred spirit that at birth
Enkindles all things human ! Break your ban
On truth and justice and the solemn oath
Kingdom to kingdom swore, in sight of Heaven both.

51

XXII

To the Navy

Hail, ye embattled masters of the deep.
Humanity's sad self doth bless your care,
And myriad hearts those stormy vigils share
While o'er the surging grey your guard ye keep.
Heroes of sea, and under-sea and air.
More bitter than the spindrift shall ye reap
The curses of an enemy's despair
Before a foe that knows not rest, or sleep.

But death too well ye know, ye steadfast brave.
And face him fearless, where your watchful might
Flings many a wild, white wake upon the grave
Of vanishedbrothers — those who welcomed night
And their unconquerable spirits gave
To darkness, that the Kingdoms should have light
52

XXIII

The Will to Power

In truth it mostly falls that destiny,
Upon a speaking tongue tells little more
Than visions dimly dreamed of things to be,
Or waves still rolling distant from their shore ;
But now epiphanies are quickening earth.
Ourselves, our living selves, shall bring to birth.

A radiant hope, a new evangel clear.

Deeds weightier than working hand hath known.

Exalt each hour : there flashes forth a year

On Time's high empyrean all alone.

To drown the lesser years within its ray.

As sunrise dims the morning stars at day.

53

They live who from this world-wide throb of pain

And far-flung agony shall surely win

A new-born spirit of life, not death, to reign

Over the rescued kingdoms ; yea, within

Our sight they toil by whom this shall be done.

O man, look to it thou thyself art one !

Deny no pang for royal Freedom's sake ;
Pour out your manhood's majesty and might
In her eternal honour ; rise and make
A hero's sacrifice for her dear right.
Our tree of life is budding ; see the fruit
Be worthy of the life blood at the root.

And know the work that you are called to do
Rests in your reach alone, beyond the ken
Of any other. Who takes place of you ?
Not in the compass of a million men
Your duty lies : it shall be wrought by none
If at your sovereign will it is not done.
54

In Freedom's sane' and sacred spirit will ;
Will by the inspiration of her name,
Your nobler, holier nature to fulfil ;
Upon the splendour of her steadfast flame
Throw heart and soul to quicken what shall be :
The victory that crowns the victory.

XXIV

spring

Spring and her surge of green, Spring and her song
And punctual swallow flashing on the blue —
Young Spring, the everlasting and the true.
Keeps still her compact, while the new-born throng

Of birds and buds awake

With innocent hearts to take
Her charity of life and light and joy anew.

What should she know, Spring of the silver rain,
Spring of the rainbow on the scented earth.
That in all hearts is homing haggard dearth.
That our spring dew is red and leaves a stain.

While, worse than Winter's hoar,

A misbegotten war
Freezes in bud and blade humanity's re-birth ?
56

Now is Death sowing where the Spring had planned
Delight of daisies ; woods, that might have held
The grey bird's nest, a thousand guns have felled.
But still the grey bird finds in Nature's hand

A dimple for a home

Where death may hardly come.
And rears her little brood unchallenged and un-

[quelled.
So in the desolation let us save
A place for Spring within our broken souls
And bid her come, albeit a darkness rolls.
Born of most sacred grief and one dear grave.

To drown our spirit's light

In chaos of black night.
And blind all destinies and guiding stars and goals.

Mirror we Spring in our disconsolate eyes.
And she shall tell her saintly rede and say
How she, too, passes in green youth away ;
But not before her toil and sacrifice

Have made the summer sure

When, glorious and pure.
Her herald dayspring bursts into another day.

57

And brighter than all dawns that ever glowed
The boon of peace on earth again to give,
Steadfast as stars above the fugitive
Sole wandering on sorrow's twilit road,

There shine the radiant hosts

Of our immortal ghosts
Who offered up their spring that all they loved

[might live.

58

XXV
March for the New Recruits

From peat and golden weald.
From good red earth and brown.
From forest, fen and field,
From vill and thorpe and town,

Come, come, come !

Leap to the solemn call ;

In Liberty

Speed fast and free,

And each for the love of all.

Your ploughshares beat to swords
On anvil of the heart ;
No time is this for words ;
Arise and play your part.

Come, come, come !

Fly upon feet of flame,

59

Swift to fulfil

Your own good will

For love of your own fair fame.

Let no men dare to say,
" We are the people's thought ;
We led them on their way ;
Without us they were nought."

Come, come, come !

You are the nation's soul.

By fire that burns

In your fathers' urns.

Forward, for love of the goal.

Shall they who gave their all
And now so peaceful lie
Dream that the trumpet's call
Brightens no brother's eye .?

Come, come, come !

Forget not those who led

When the evil woke

And the battle broke —

Boys ! For the love of the dead.

60

Who harbours the vain thought
That one on this red day
Can England have for nought
And freedom without pay ?

Come, come, come !

Join up with them that stand

To bear the brunt

Of the battle front,

For love of their motherland.

From good red earth and brown.
From peat and golden weald.
From vill and thorpe and town.
From forest, fen and field.

Come, come, come !

Come in your manhood's might

With majesty.

Your choice made free.

For love of Eternal Right !

6i

XXVI

Two in One

Never forget you and your son
Are one in two and two in one
For ever ; though he's gone from you.
You're two in one and one in two.

Not time, nor all eternity
Can change what must for ever be ;
In life or death, your boy and you
Are two in one and one in two.

62

XXVII

France, 14 July

Even upon her darkest page is found
A glint of gracious gold and flash of sooth
Athwart the mirk — a strand of human ruth
Through the wide ambit of her annals wound ;
For all the wit of age and might of youth
Wed at her sweet, deep heart — therein we sound
A well of reason, where doth harbour truth,
And faith and an endurance without bound.

Most sane, most spiritual, because most sane,
Upon her bitter road she steadfast shows
The sacrifice majestic, while again
Freedom's own everlasting altar flows
With France's blood ; in that most sacred stain
Once more her own immortal genius glows.

63

XXVIII

Edith Cavell

" Than patriotism there are greater things : "
Even so spake she, when to her vision clear
The prison shadow^s Hmned and Death drew^ near
To hide her graciousness for ever with his wings.

Her woman's heart, burning with brave design.
Forgot the law, and when a man desired
To play the man, her woman's soul was fired
To help him join again his country's battle line.

For that she died ; the hands that she had healed
Took her rare life ; the heads that she had bound
Plotted the giving of her own death wound.
Not womanhood could save ; not womanhood could

[shield.
64

Her ministry is broken, and the blow
That laid her dead on the night-hidden earth,
Shall sound upon this present grief and dearth
With louder thunder far than deep-mouthed ordnance

[know.

And still her gentle voice above this strife
Wakes echo from the secret, golden bell
Called conscience, so that time to come shall tell
How that most honoured death helped men to nobler

[life.

" Than patriotism there are greater things : "
O ye who still unwitting desolate
Your hearts with futile passion, curse and hate,
Harken while her last word a moment chimes and

[rings.

Soul of her Land, before the solemn plea
Of human honour, stunned at this black shame.
Pray steely reason guide and guard your aim,
Lest brute awaken brute, to mar humanity.

F 65

XXIX

In Gallipoli

There is a fold of lion-coloured earth,
With stony feet in the iEgean blue,
Whereon of old dwelt loneliness and dearth
Sun-scorched and desolate ; and when there flew
The winds of winter in those dreary aisles
Of crag and clifF, a whirling snow-wreath bound
The foreheads of the mountains, and their miles
Of frowning precipice and scarp were wound
With stilly white, that peered through brooding

[mist profound.

But now the myrtle and the rosemary,
The mastic and the rue, the scented thyme
With fragrant fingers gladdening the grey,
Shall kindle on a desert grown sublime.
66

Henceforth that haggard land doth guard and hold
The treasure of a sovereign nation's womb —
Her fame, her worth, her pride, her purest gold.
Oh, call ye not the sleeping place a tomb
That lifts to heaven's light such everlasting bloom.

They stretch, now high, now low, the little scars
Upon the rugged pelt of herb and stone ;
Above them sparkle bells and buds and stars
Young Spring hath from her emerald kirtle thrown.
Asphodel, crocus and anemone
With silver, azure, crimson once again
Ray all that earth, and from the murmuring sea
Come winds to flash the leaves on shore and plain
Where evermore our dead — our radiant dead shall

[reign.

Imperishable as the mountain height
That marks their place afar, their numbers shine.
Who, with the first-fruits of a joyful might.
To human liberty another shrine

67

Here sanctified ; nor vainly have they sped
That made this desert dearer far than home,
And left one sanctuary more to tread
For England, whose memorial pathways roam
Beside her hero sons, beneath the field and foam.

68

XXX
To Rupert Brooke

Though we, a happy few,
Indubitably knew
That from the purple came
This poet of pure flame,

The world first saw his light
Flash on an evil night.
And heard his song from far
Above the drone of war.

Out of the primal dark
He leapt, like lyric lark.
Singing his aubade strain ;
Then fell to earth again.

69

Wc garner all he gave,
And on his hero grave.
For love and honour strew^,
Rosemary, myrtle, rue.

Son of the Morning, we
Had kept you thankfully ;
But yours the asphodel :
Hail, singer, and farewell.

70

XXXI

Verdun

Three hundred thousand men, but not enough
To break this township on a winding stream ;
More yet must fall, and more, ere the red stuff
That built a nation's manhood may redeem
The Master's hopes and realize his dream.

They pave the way to Verdun ; on their dust
The HohenzoUern mount and, hand in hand.
Gaze haggard south ; for yet another thrust
And higher hills must heap, ere they may stand
To feed their eyes upon the promised land.

One barrow, borne of women, lifts them high.
Built up of many a thousand human dead.
Nursed on their mothers' bosoms, now they lie —

71

A Golgotha, upon whose carrion clay
Justice of myriad men still in the womb
Shall heave two crosses ; crucify and flay
Two memories accurs'd ; then in the tomb
Of world-wide execration give them room.

Verdun ! A clarion thy name shall ring
Adown the ages and the Nations see
Thy monuments of glory. Now we bring
Thank-ofFering and bend a reverent knee,
Thou light upon the crown of Liberty.

72

XXXII

Unto this Last

You thought to grasp the world ; but you shall keep
Its curses only crowned upon your brow.
You that have fouled the purple, broke your vow,
And sowed the wind of death, the whirlwind you

[shall reap.

Shout to your tribal god to bless the blood
Of this red vintage on the summer earth ;
Clash cymbals to him, leap and shout in mirth ;
Call on his name to stay the coming, cleansing flood.

We are no hounds of heaven, nor ravening band
Of earthly wolves to tear your kingdom down.
We stand for human reason ; at our frown
The coward sword shall fall from your accursed hand.

73

We do not speak of vengeance ; there shall run
No stain of children's blood beneath'our heel.
No pregnant woman suffers from our steel ;
But Justice we shall do, as sure as set of sun.

Or short, or long, the pathway of your feet.
Stamped on the faces of the innocent dead,
Must lead where tyrant's road hath ever led.
Alone, oh perjured soul, your Justice you shall meet.

No sacrifice the balance of her scale

Can win ; no gift of blood and iron can weigh

Against the widowed world's wide agony.

Against the orphans' cry and myriad mothers' wail.

The equinox of outraged earth shall blaze
And flash its levin on your infamous might.
Man cries to fellow man ; light leaps to light ;
Storm-foundered, broken, spent, you vanish from our

[gaze.

74

XXXIII

The Worn Grass

Where is the summer grass, so green,
That made the Park a resting-place
For eyes street-weary ? Now its face
Is worn, attrite and dim ; I ween
We know what those broad patches mean.

How many brave, whose tireless feet
Marched here and turned in daily drill,
And wore the grass away, now still,
Their tramplings ended, in the sweet.
Cool earth are resting, crowned, complete ?

The grass shall hide its wounds again
And shine once more for London's play —
A green lake in a cincture grey.
Our hearts the abraded dust retain
And cherish its most sacred strain.

75

XXXIV

Death and the Flowers

Now is Death only plucking flowers ; he leaves
The garnered grain and sunset coloured fruit.
Neither to bending bough, nor mellow root
Nor threshing of the amber harvest sheaves
He comes ; but where in joyous youth serene
The sunny blossoms laugh and fear no sickle keen.

Perchance he wearies of his ancient ways,
The hoards of treasure ripe and over ripe.
The stale, familiar gleanings, true to type —
Seedtime and sere and climacteric days ;
For now the dusky halls of Hades gleam
With precious flower-light and broken hope and

[dream.
76

Gone ; all their promise gone, for nevermore
Shall sun and rain rejoice to do them good,
Or glad earth labour to create their food.
Naked their places, and where, heretofore.
The shining blossoms sprang that now are sped.
Only remain the stocks who built and nourished.

The reaper reaps, of ruth all innocent.
The sparkle and the splendour and the glow
Sink into nothingness beneath his blow.
Where the swathe falls and withers and is spent.
Yet, sweeter than all fruit the days fulfil.
Fragrance of flowers shall haunt our empty gardens

[still.

77

XXXV
Earth to Moon

Lines written after observing the tragic likeness between the
battlefields of Picardy and the face of the moon seen through
a telescope.

Moon, thy mystery is read —
Sister moon, so full and fair.
Now I know why thou art sped.
Why thine antres, grey and bare
Lack their oceans, forests, air.

Thy sad face behold again —
Furrows, craters riven, torn,
Ragged cup and shattered plain.
Scarred and seamed and rent and worn —
On mine own, since man was born.
78

Earth thine ashy pattern knows.
See my rounded bosom's grace
Bleeding from the cruel blows
Struck their mother, by this race
Risen now upon my face.

Thou art past that agony.
Conscious things within thy breast
Surely slew and strangled thee —
Now a planet corpse, at rest,
Grave and victim of the pest.

Warring on thine innocent globe,
Doubtless they have lived their day;
Fouled thy bosom, torn thy robe,
Blown thy veil of clouds away;
Left thee scorched and mangled clay.

Showing now the self-same scars
Bitten to the heart of me.
Soon among the old, dead stars.
Sister moon, I, too, shall be ;
Twin and counterpart of thee.

79

Ruin so complete as thine
Here remaineth to be writ ;
Man is learning, line by line,
Till his power has reached to it.
Then his works will match his wit.

80

XXXVI

To the Pacifists

Torturers of goodwill, then it would seem
Effect not follows cause within your sight ?
O ye of narrow eyes, your futile dream
Robs action of its consequence ; ye slight
The eternal law and lift your cry in vain :
That what man sows, he shall not reap again.

Praying all those who planned this mighty blow,

Humiliation and indignity,

Scorn and contumely shall never know ;

Nor outlawed must the lawless kingdom be

By those who rescued Europe from her yoke.

And barred her path and took her traitor stroke.

G 8i

But march of things accomplished who can stay ?
It was not might that flung Germania down
From the clean places of her majesty.
Or cast the filth upon her jewelled crown.
Man forged no flaming sword to do her ill,
Or thrust her from the pale of earth's goodwill.

Thither her own egregious spirit led.
Her most unholy lust and avarice
O'ertopping all mankind ; for that she bled ;
For that the law demands the eternal price,
Since not one deed inspired of hate, or love.
Can at the harvesting unfruitful prove.

No enemy humiliation brings

But her own act, that must. Then wherefore cry

" Spare her the scourge of these accomplished things ;

Condone the will that wove this agony " ?

She that herself hath outraged must endure

A heart defiled and bear a soul impure.

8a

The kingdom that yc wish inviolate
Festers beneath a load of innocent slain,
And from the poison of their evil fate
Inexorable cancer spreads its stain.
Not Belgium reeks with her red infamies,
But in Germania's heart the horror lies.

Let goodwill flash from the whole heaven of stars.

It cannot banish from her heart forsworn

The abiding curse, or, from the wound that mars

Her tainted body, pluck the accursed thorn.

Not all the ruth and pity that ye crave

Shall keep a murdered honour from the grave.

For destiny hath willed that none may meet
The spiritual reckoning of his neighbour's soul,
And paths Germania planned for other feet
Her own shall tread unto the fated goal.
The lustral wave must flow ; the fire must burn
Ere living, procreating peace return.

83

XXXVII

War Shall Not Cease

Since war must cease not, let us welcome war ;
Her onset seek we never to evade.
But first Bellona shall be servant made,
Robbed of her bloody throne, suffered no more
To feast on life, but death ; and turned her blade
Against the accursed shadows we abhor.
That still eclipse humanity full sore.
Leaving us shamed and brutish and afraid.

Now superstition, lying, futile lust

Are challenged for our enemies ; now hate

And prejudice and malice writhe in dust

Before our armed goodwill. Find we our fate

Where banners of the pioneers still shine

And golden Reason holds her battle line.
84

The warrior flags that gleam above her head
Are blazoned bright with everlasting laws
For which her mighty ones have Waged her wars
And fought and fallen ; yea, our starry dead
Have battled here, have triumphed and have bled
For Reason's patient and immortal cause —
The Humanists, the only conquerors
Whose victories are sung unblemished.

For love, not hate strive on ; for love of man
Assail his ignorance and lift his heart

Higher than all the sorrows of his span

Can reach or quell ; be it your soldier part

To purify and gladden and reclaim

In human Reason's ever sacred name.

8s

XXXVIII

Reveille

Ended the watches of the dark ; oh hear the bugles

[blow —
The bugles blow Reveille at the golden gates of

[morn ;
A shudder moves the living East ; the stars are

[burning low
Above the crystal cradle of a day that's newly born.
Arise ye slumbering legions ; wake for honour and

[for right ;
Awake, arise, ye myriad men, to faith and justice

[sworn ;
High heaven's fires are flashing on the valley and the

[height.
And the bugles blow Reveille at the golden gates of

[morn.
86

Within the holy of your hearts, oh hear the bugles

[blow —
The bugles blow Reveille at the golden gates of

[morn.
And welcome with their clarion ineffable fore-glow
Of a sunrise where the souls of men are being newly

[born.
Awake, arise, ye legions, to the challenge of the dead ;
Arise, awake and follow in the footsteps they have

[worn ;
For their spirits arc the glory of the dayspring

[overhead.
And their bugles blow Reveille at the golden gates

[of morn.

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