 | Christmas Roses for Nineteen-Hundred and Fourteen |  |
1
Christmas Roses.
White-faced Winter Roses,
O'er the grave I plant you
Where the dead reposes,
That a soul may haunt you,
O'er the grave I plant you
Where the dead reposes,
That a soul may haunt you,
And your ghostly whiteness
In the Winter gloom,
Seem some spirit-brightness
Shining from the tomb!
In the Winter gloom,
Seem some spirit-brightness
Shining from the tomb!
2
The Call.
Hark! 'tis the rush of the horses,
The crash of the galloping gun!
The stars are out of their courses;
The hour of Doom has begun.
Leap from thy scabbard, O sword!
Leap! 'Tis the Day of the Lord!
The crash of the galloping gun!
The stars are out of their courses;
The hour of Doom has begun.
Leap from thy scabbard, O sword!
Leap! 'Tis the Day of the Lord!
Prate not of peace any longer,
Laughter and idlesse and ease!
Up, every man that is stronger!
Leave but the priest on his knees!
Quick, every hand to the hilt!
Who striketh not—his the guilt!
Laughter and idlesse and ease!
Up, every man that is stronger!
Leave but the priest on his knees!
Quick, every hand to the hilt!
Who striketh not—his the guilt!
Call not each man on his brother!
Cry not to Heaven to save!
Thou art the man—not another—
Thou, to off glove and out glaive!
Fight, ye who ne'er fought before!
Fight, ye old fighting-men more!
Cry not to Heaven to save!
Thou art the man—not another—
Thou, to off glove and out glaive!
Fight, ye who ne'er fought before!
Fight, ye old fighting-men more!
3
Oh, but the thrill and the splendour!
The sudden new knowledge—I can!
To fawn on no hireling defender,
But fight one's own fight as a man!
On woman's love won we set store;
To win one's own manhood is more.
The sudden new knowledge—I can!
To fawn on no hireling defender,
But fight one's own fight as a man!
On woman's love won we set store;
To win one's own manhood is more.
Who hath a soul that will glow not,
Set face to face with the foe?
‘Is life worth living?’ I know not;
Death is worth dying, I know.
Aye, I would gamble with Hell,
And—losing such stakes—say, 'Tis well!
Set face to face with the foe?
‘Is life worth living?’ I know not;
Death is worth dying, I know.
Aye, I would gamble with Hell,
And—losing such stakes—say, 'Tis well!
4
‘All's Well.’
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The heavens are dark, and never a light
But the far-off flicker of Hell.
But the steed is in the stall,
Unsleeping;
And the warder on the wall,
Watch-keeping;
And the granary is stored,
And ready gun and sword.
In the name of the Lord,
All's well!
What of the night to tell?
The heavens are dark, and never a light
But the far-off flicker of Hell.
But the steed is in the stall,
Unsleeping;
And the warder on the wall,
Watch-keeping;
And the granary is stored,
And ready gun and sword.
In the name of the Lord,
All's well!
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The wind blows fierce, and the foam flies white,
And the waters moan and swell.
But the foes to haven keep,
Safe hiding;
And our ships are on the deep,
Sure riding;
And the gallant hearts on board
Keep ceaseless watch and ward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's well!
What of the night to tell?
The wind blows fierce, and the foam flies white,
And the waters moan and swell.
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Safe hiding;
And our ships are on the deep,
Sure riding;
And the gallant hearts on board
Keep ceaseless watch and ward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's well!
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
There are widows weeping, and babes affright,
And a ceaseless burial bell.
But the hand that holds the gun
Still shakes not;
And the line drops one by one,
Yet breaks not.
Of the blood so nobly poured
There shall surely be reward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's well!
What of the night to tell?
There are widows weeping, and babes affright,
And a ceaseless burial bell.
But the hand that holds the gun
Still shakes not;
And the line drops one by one,
Yet breaks not.
Of the blood so nobly poured
There shall surely be reward.
In the name of the Lord,
All's well!
6
False Gods.
Gods of Berserker and Viking, Thor and Odin, rise again;
Loki laughs to see the Red Cock crowing from the cross-topped fane.
Steely-crested waves of battle, breaking in a crimson foam,
Drench with blood the smiling cornland, drown in tears the happy home.
Loki laughs to see the Red Cock crowing from the cross-topped fane.
Steely-crested waves of battle, breaking in a crimson foam,
Drench with blood the smiling cornland, drown in tears the happy home.
Where is resting-place or refuge from the fear that compasseth,
When the heavens drop destruction, and the seas are sown with death?
For the sons of Light are fallen, fall'n thro' pride, as angels fell;
And the Morning-star becometh Lucifer, the Prince of Hell.
When the heavens drop destruction, and the seas are sown with death?
For the sons of Light are fallen, fall'n thro' pride, as angels fell;
And the Morning-star becometh Lucifer, the Prince of Hell.
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To the false gods of thy fathers bend in vain thy recreant knee!
They who smote Napoleon's eagles will not flinch for thine or thee!
Now of forty years of iron, Europe sees thro' tears the end:
As a foe we fear no longer, though we feared thee as a friend.
They who smote Napoleon's eagles will not flinch for thine or thee!
Now of forty years of iron, Europe sees thro' tears the end:
As a foe we fear no longer, though we feared thee as a friend.
Often have we half believed thee, fain to grasp the grisly hand,
Steel-enwrapped, that hid Death's fingers—trust the mask-face smiling bland.
Fallen is that mask for ever—full revealed the felon head,
And the proud-winged Prussian eagle prov'n a vulture, carrion-fed.
Steel-enwrapped, that hid Death's fingers—trust the mask-face smiling bland.
Fallen is that mask for ever—full revealed the felon head,
And the proud-winged Prussian eagle prov'n a vulture, carrion-fed.
As the day of Armageddon deadly shall the conflict be.
Flesh is clothing—breath is quickening—the dry bones of chivalry.
Arthur rides again to battle; there is Galahad the pure;
Loyal Lancelot, gallant Gawain, fight with us: the End is sure.
Flesh is clothing—breath is quickening—the dry bones of chivalry.
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Loyal Lancelot, gallant Gawain, fight with us: the End is sure.
Sure the victory. Else how vain-imagined are millennial years—
Love victorious—Truth triumphant—ceased the flow of helpless tears!
Sure the End is. Else Eternal Love must come again to die;
Peter shall forswear, and Judas kiss, and Pilate crucify.
Love victorious—Truth triumphant—ceased the flow of helpless tears!
Sure the End is. Else Eternal Love must come again to die;
Peter shall forswear, and Judas kiss, and Pilate crucify.
9
The Song of the Guns.
Thunder of cannon and shrieking of shell!
Gallop, ye gunners! the bugle is calling.
Yon post is to reach, 'tho' 'tis portal of Hell.
Gallop, ye gunners! your comrades are falling.
Gallop, ye gunners! the bugle is calling.
Yon post is to reach, 'tho' 'tis portal of Hell.
Gallop, ye gunners! your comrades are falling.
Striving of horses and straining of wheels!
Gallop, ye gunners! so near is disaster.
The heaven is darkened, the earth rocks and reels.
Gallop, ye gunners! for Death rideth faster.
Gallop, ye gunners! so near is disaster.
The heaven is darkened, the earth rocks and reels.
Gallop, ye gunners! for Death rideth faster.
What is this shrilling and buzzing of bees?
Gallop, ye gunners! the bullets are hailing.
What is this rushing like wind in the trees?
Gallop, ye gunners! fear nothing but failing!
Gallop, ye gunners! the bullets are hailing.
What is this rushing like wind in the trees?
Gallop, ye gunners! fear nothing but failing!
10
Hark, how they cheer in the trenches ahead!
Gallop, ye gunners! their hands yet they wave them.
See, yet they stand, 'mid the dying and dead!
Gallop, ye gunners! unlimber and save them!
Gallop, ye gunners! their hands yet they wave them.
See, yet they stand, 'mid the dying and dead!
Gallop, ye gunners! unlimber and save them!
11
The Debt Unpayable.
What have I given,
Bold sailor on the sea,
In earth or heaven,
That you should die for me?
Bold sailor on the sea,
In earth or heaven,
That you should die for me?
What can I give,
O soldier, leal and brave,
Long as I live,
To pay the life you gave?
O soldier, leal and brave,
Long as I live,
To pay the life you gave?
What tithe or part
Can I return to thee,
O stricken heart,
That thou shouldst break for me?
Can I return to thee,
O stricken heart,
That thou shouldst break for me?
12
Yon fiery breath
For you has slain life's flowers;
It withereth
(God grant!) all weeds in ours.
For you has slain life's flowers;
It withereth
(God grant!) all weeds in ours.
13
The Coming of the Oversea Armies.
Ye who have died for England, o'er whose graves
Move unfamiliar stars and alien waves,
Rest now content! ye have not died in vain.
This day beholds the guerdon of your pain;
The cause victorious that ye died to win;
The harvest of your sowing gathered in.
For justice and for righteousness ye wrought
Unflinching and unfailing, though ye fought
Unholpen, and your own stout heart was all,
The single fortalice to stand or fall;
Though vain your life seemed, by false dreams deceived;
Your death to annul the little work achieved.
Move unfamiliar stars and alien waves,
Rest now content! ye have not died in vain.
This day beholds the guerdon of your pain;
The cause victorious that ye died to win;
The harvest of your sowing gathered in.
For justice and for righteousness ye wrought
Unflinching and unfailing, though ye fought
Unholpen, and your own stout heart was all,
The single fortalice to stand or fall;
Though vain your life seemed, by false dreams deceived;
Your death to annul the little work achieved.
Oh, if some land of clearer light there be,
From whose far hills this world ye yet may see;
If there life single-purposed, past the break
Of Death, still hold that purpose, nor forsake
The fellowship of earth though far away:
Assuaging gladness should be yours to-day,
To know full-crowned the labours of your hand.
This day all round the world your Motherland
Sees all her children rise and call her blessed.
This day with one voice have her sons confessed
Before the nations that for no false gain
Of gold or lands, no tyranny to attain
For selfish purpose or luxurious ease,
Has England held the empire of the seas,
And flown her flag in every continent.
Peace she ensued, on righteousness was bent,
Freedom for all men, and an equal world
For great or little. Therefore see unfurled
To-day the banners of a thousand tribes,
Hired not for lucre nor base-won by bribes,
That rise uncalled respondent to her need,
Her own free sons, and races she has freed
Or kept in freedom! Listen! with one mouth
From East and West they cry, from North and South:
‘We are as thou art, and our sons as thine!
Our arms, our wealth, our manhood we assign!’
From whose far hills this world ye yet may see;
If there life single-purposed, past the break
Of Death, still hold that purpose, nor forsake
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Assuaging gladness should be yours to-day,
To know full-crowned the labours of your hand.
This day all round the world your Motherland
Sees all her children rise and call her blessed.
This day with one voice have her sons confessed
Before the nations that for no false gain
Of gold or lands, no tyranny to attain
For selfish purpose or luxurious ease,
Has England held the empire of the seas,
And flown her flag in every continent.
Peace she ensued, on righteousness was bent,
Freedom for all men, and an equal world
For great or little. Therefore see unfurled
To-day the banners of a thousand tribes,
Hired not for lucre nor base-won by bribes,
That rise uncalled respondent to her need,
Her own free sons, and races she has freed
Or kept in freedom! Listen! with one mouth
From East and West they cry, from North and South:
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Our arms, our wealth, our manhood we assign!’
O lion-heart of England, tried and true!
Leap at the message—leap, and beat anew
With fearless faith, and hope assured, and will
Unfaltering, thy long labour to fulfil,
Till every wave repeat and every wind:
‘Peace upon earth! goodwill to all mankind!’
Leap at the message—leap, and beat anew
With fearless faith, and hope assured, and will
Unfaltering, thy long labour to fulfil,
Till every wave repeat and every wind:
‘Peace upon earth! goodwill to all mankind!’
16
A Lamentation over Belgium.
Oh, weep for the Land that is weeping for her dead!
Who sits, a maid deflowered, with mourning-robes outspread,
With the iron in her soul and the dust upon her head!
Who sits, a maid deflowered, with mourning-robes outspread,
With the iron in her soul and the dust upon her head!
Oh, weep for the Land, and the pleasant ways that were!
Her cities were as flowers that adorn a rich parterre;
She smiled as a maiden delighting to be fair.
Her cities were as flowers that adorn a rich parterre;
She smiled as a maiden delighting to be fair.
Alas, alas, her cities! They are falln or burnt with fire,
Like flowers rent and ruined which men no more desire;
Her face is marred with blood and her bosom foul with mire.
Like flowers rent and ruined which men no more desire;
Her face is marred with blood and her bosom foul with mire.
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Oh, weep for the Land, and her men that are no more!
Oh, weep for the Land, and her widows weeping sore,
And her children begging bread from door to alien door!
Oh, weep for the Land, and her widows weeping sore,
And her children begging bread from door to alien door!
She was nursed among the nations, a daughter fair to see,
A little last-born darling, a nursling of the knee,
The darling of the nations, free-born among the free.
A little last-born darling, a nursling of the knee,
The darling of the nations, free-born among the free.
They stood, the war-girt nations, in arms around her then,
And swore to defend her, a maiden among men;
They swore an oath confederate, and confirmed it with the pen.
And swore to defend her, a maiden among men;
They swore an oath confederate, and confirmed it with the pen.
Oh, shame upon the false head, that held not by his troth!
Oh, shame upon the false hand, that signed and brake the oath!
More shame upon the false lips that feigned the hand was loth!
18
More shame upon the false lips that feigned the hand was loth!
But woe for the Land, that sat in selfish ease,
And stored plenteous garners, and played on pleasant leas,
And mocked at the menace of storm across the seas!
And stored plenteous garners, and played on pleasant leas,
And mocked at the menace of storm across the seas!
Oh, woe for the Land, that remembered not her word,
Nor heeded darkening heavens or far-off thunder heard,
Nor looked to her armour, nor kept her house prepared!
Nor heeded darkening heavens or far-off thunder heard,
Nor looked to her armour, nor kept her house prepared!
‘Sufficient,’ so she laughed, ‘is the evil to the day!
When the foe is at the gate we can fight instead of play.’
And remembered not her friends in forefront of the fray.
When the foe is at the gate we can fight instead of play.’
And remembered not her friends in forefront of the fray.
19
‘Arise! 'tis the tempest! It is on us! Save us now!’
We heard the cry of anguish and bethought us of our vow;
And answered: ‘England's honour is England's soul, we trow.
We heard the cry of anguish and bethought us of our vow;
And answered: ‘England's honour is England's soul, we trow.
Fear not! we keep our promise; we make this war our own!’
Alas, for the idle boast, the empty trumpet blown!
Alas, for the plighted word redeemed in words alone!
Alas, for the idle boast, the empty trumpet blown!
Alas, for the plighted word redeemed in words alone!
Alas, for the sword in the scabbard left to rust!
Alas, for the spear not sharpened for the thrust!
Alas, for the unready who in untried armour trust!
Alas, for the spear not sharpened for the thrust!
Alas, for the unready who in untried armour trust!
What worth were oaths unbroken, when walls and cities brake?
What mattered we forsook not, when these must all forsake?
What profits England's waking? Can Belgium's dead awake?
What mattered we forsook not, when these must all forsake?
What profits England's waking? Can Belgium's dead awake?
20
Was England's name upheld when the towers of Louvain fell?
Was England's honour proved in the havoc of the shell?
Was England's word made good in the hurricane of Hell?
Was England's honour proved in the havoc of the shell?
Was England's word made good in the hurricane of Hell?
For they who brake that covenant delight in men of deed;
And we who kept that covenant to men of words give heed;
And the harvest is to all as the sowing of the seed.
And we who kept that covenant to men of words give heed;
And the harvest is to all as the sowing of the seed.
Oh, what shall be the ending? Can smitten Belgium rise,
When the smoke of her burning ascendeth to the skies,
And nought is left her children except their weeping eyes?
When the smoke of her burning ascendeth to the skies,
And nought is left her children except their weeping eyes?
Oh, what shall be the end to her? What comfort of her pain?
Her cities, who will build them, her fields who plant again?
And who will raise up sons to her heroic as her slain?
21
And who will raise up sons to her heroic as her slain?
Her fortune who may tell her? Our hands may turn indeed
The blackened pages of the Past, but who the Future read?
Save this: The blood of heroes of noble lives is seed.
The blackened pages of the Past, but who the Future read?
Save this: The blood of heroes of noble lives is seed.
A hundred years have passed away since Waterloo was won.
A hundred years shall pass again, and all our days be done
For whom the dreadful hours now like drops of life-blood run.
A hundred years shall pass again, and all our days be done
For whom the dreadful hours now like drops of life-blood run.
And when our children's children shall walk that blood-drenched soil,
Where scarce is field to ravage or city left to spoil,
And see the cattle grazing and townsfolk at their toil;
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And see the cattle grazing and townsfolk at their toil;
Then shall they say of Belgium, in language soft with tears,
‘She was a lesser star whom fire made bright above her peers,
To be the shining lodestar by which all honour steers.’
‘She was a lesser star whom fire made bright above her peers,
To be the shining lodestar by which all honour steers.’
And Peace, at last set surely on guard around the girth
Of this war-tortured planet in air and sea and earth,
When numbering the nations, and weighing each his worth,
Of this war-tortured planet in air and sea and earth,
When numbering the nations, and weighing each his worth,
Shall take with love most tender this wounded land to her,
Ev'n as a mother doth the child of suffering prefer;
And say before her prouder sons, nor find one gainsayer:
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And say before her prouder sons, nor find one gainsayer:
‘Lo, she hath given more than all, this little one, to me!
For they gave of their plenty, the wealth of land and sea;
But she has given all she was, and all she hoped to be!
For they gave of their plenty, the wealth of land and sea;
But she has given all she was, and all she hoped to be!
24
Here: and There.
September, 1914.
Here.
Soft benediction of September sun;
Voices of children, laughing as they run;
Green English lawns, bright flowers and butterflies
And over all the blue embracing skies.
Voices of children, laughing as they run;
Green English lawns, bright flowers and butterflies
And over all the blue embracing skies.
There.
Tumult and roaring of the incessant gun;
Dead men and dying, trenches lost and won;
Blood, mud, and havoc, bugles, shoutings, cries;
And over all the blue embracing skies.
Dead men and dying, trenches lost and won;
Blood, mud, and havoc, bugles, shoutings, cries;
And over all the blue embracing skies.
25
Lord Roberts.
Great, in a day of teeming littlenesses;Clear-visioned, in a day of clouds and gloom;
Strong, in a day of weakness and distresses;
In days of lightness, earnest as the Doom!
Thy name all England and her Empire blesses,
Whose sons shall make their Mecca of thy tomb.
| Christmas Roses for Nineteen-Hundred and Fourteen | |