 | The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland |  |
79
War
1
She took of fire of the sun and steel of the icy moonAnd rage of furious seas and breath of the hurricane,
And silver sound of April and blossom and dust of June,
And tears of women and terror of babes and blood of the hearts of men;
Through nights athrob with her rose-red star and aghast with the wild star's falling,
And days of summer whereby she was throned and days of autumn that crowned her,
She went to make dread feasts and great pomps; and she reigneth—for ever calling
The fairest and kindest and bravest and youngest and dearest around her.
2
For them she hath lures which are swifter than joy and brighter than hopeAnd subtler than aught that cunning deviseth or gildeth,
Surer to snare and safer to catch than love-lamp or silken rope
Hung from the moonlit window for token of love which yieldeth;
80
She is the lover of lovers, whom loving, none may love other,
Softly she sayeth the names of her children that they may go to her,
And she gathers them to her stark fierce bosom like a proud mother.
3
Of old hath she been contemned by mouths that were zealous and wise,Sister of Murder, procuress and bondwoman of Death;
Yet is the blood on her hand made snow by the Faith in her eyes,
And the tongue of triumphing Time for her righteousness witnesseth:
Out of all darkness she comes with all sweet light on her tresses,
Into the ear of the flesh she crieth quick speech of the spirit;
And she bringeth the world from its travail and ache to its certain comfort, and blesses
Them that endure and are broken and spent for them that inherit.
| The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland | |