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332

SONNET XIV
CHRISTMAS, 1910

Watcher, what of the night?”—The night is black
For the most part, but here and there a star
Shines forth,—how few and faint, how dim and far!
The thunder of guns upon the forward track
Is ceaseless. Limp and flabby, soft and slack,
From ball to concert, club to motor-car
Our “men” escort our “women.’ On a par
The sexes seem, for sex alike they lack.
Haunted by dreams of old Victorian days
Poets and thinkers contemplate, alone,
The ruins of an Empire half o'er-thrown:
Watch sparks predicting no bright Christmas blaze
But conflagrations kindled in wild ways,
Saddest and fiercest that this land has known.
December 23, 1910.