Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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| I. |
THE WHITE LIFE. |
 | II. |
| III. |
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| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
THE WHITE LIFE.
What is the long life? What is the strong life
Showing the clue,
Giving their hue
Still to the stages run by the ages, written on pages
Noble and true?
Is it the iron arms that environ
Natures more hard,
Stubborn and starr'd
Over with graces of the grim traces on the sad places
Fighting has scarr'd?
This is not all life, this is the small life,
Bloody and barr'd.
Showing the clue,
Giving their hue
Still to the stages run by the ages, written on pages
Noble and true?
Is it the iron arms that environ
Natures more hard,
Stubborn and starr'd
Over with graces of the grim traces on the sad places
Fighting has scarr'd?
This is not all life, this is the small life,
Bloody and barr'd.
What is the sweet life? What the complete life,
Beautiful, fond,
Pointing beyond
Our little trouble past as a bubble, gone as the stubble,
Though we despond?
Is it the rounded lot that is bounded
Gently by lore
Heaping up store,
Commune with tender spirits of splendour fain to surrender
Freely yet more?
This is not brave life, this is a slave life,
Not the real ore.
Beautiful, fond,
Pointing beyond
Our little trouble past as a bubble, gone as the stubble,
Though we despond?
Is it the rounded lot that is bounded
Gently by lore
Heaping up store,
Commune with tender spirits of splendour fain to surrender
Freely yet more?
This is not brave life, this is a slave life,
Not the real ore.
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What is the pure life? What the secure life
Making men live,
Eager to give
Better than glory and the pale story haloed with gory
Light fugitive?
Is it the wizened fate of the prisoned
Saint in his cell,
Hugging the shell
Shut on the embers left by his members' fire that remembers
Weakness too well?
This cannot be life, this is not free life—
Bible and bell.
Making men live,
Eager to give
Better than glory and the pale story haloed with gory
Light fugitive?
Is it the wizened fate of the prisoned
Saint in his cell,
Hugging the shell
Shut on the embers left by his members' fire that remembers
Weakness too well?
This cannot be life, this is not free life—
Bible and bell.
What is the great life? What is the straight life
Conquering ill,
Able to fill
Hearts in each corner, grief of the mourner, doubt of the scorner,
One with God's will?
It is the serving glad and unswerving
Ever of man,
Just as we can,
Leaving the blotted world with its spotted husks that have rotted,
Spent with their span;
This is the White Life, this infinite life
Perfect of plan.
Conquering ill,
Able to fill
Hearts in each corner, grief of the mourner, doubt of the scorner,
One with God's will?
It is the serving glad and unswerving
Ever of man,
Just as we can,
Leaving the blotted world with its spotted husks that have rotted,
Spent with their span;
This is the White Life, this infinite life
Perfect of plan.
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