 | War poems with some others |  |
6
DEDICATION To Britain
Dear isle, in whose high service it was by fate decreedThat I should work in other lands with men of alien breed,
With those who little knew thee or knew but to resent
The girdling sea should hold at bay their envious ill-content,
Dear isle, whose summer magic now challenged to grim strife
Has never seemed more lovely in all my years of life,
Words fail to match the patriot pride that makes my soul elate
To feel thy sons so one at heart in this dark hour of fate,
At home and round the seven seas where Britain's flag is flown,
Who have ventured all in freedom's cause and bear the brunt alone.
And though the sky be overcast in which my setting sun
May sink beyond red battlefields still waiting to be won,
I know my people's sword and shield will ransom the oppressed
And I can pass with unbowed head serenely to my rest.
9
The Voice of the Empire
If my work is over and if in vain I had hoped at the close of lifeThat peace would fall with the evening, not passion and hate and strife,
I can still give thanks as my sun goes down for one treasure of passing worth,
The faith that was staunch to the motherland of her sons at the ends of the earth,
When she called them all into council and their splendid answer came,
Their pledge in an issue greater than conquest, profit or fame,
That peoples should live in freedom, unfettered in word or thought,
And hold the land that their fathers held and the faith that their fathers taught.
From the isles of all the oceans, from the north to the tropic sun
We have heard the homing voices, and the soul of their voice was one—
10
Saint George's cross at the masthead, to liberate not to enslave.
She sheltered us in our childhood. We are nations now full-grown.
If Britain must draw her sword once more she shall not draw alone.
With a single voice in a common cause we bid the challenger know
We stand with the Mother Country, and where she leads we go.
11
To the Dominions
Sons of those stout adventurers who set forth long ago
To found the vast dominion that marches with the snow,
And you whose great forefathers in little ships defied
Uncharted seas and tamed wild lands to be our Austral pride,
How nobly has your swift response revealed the island breed
That rallied to the mother's call in this her hour of need,
When those we had armed for left us, who had made their cause our own,
On freedom's menaced bulwark to face the spears alone.
To found the vast dominion that marches with the snow,
And you whose great forefathers in little ships defied
Uncharted seas and tamed wild lands to be our Austral pride,
How nobly has your swift response revealed the island breed
That rallied to the mother's call in this her hour of need,
When those we had armed for left us, who had made their cause our own,
On freedom's menaced bulwark to face the spears alone.
Not only have you all renounced the peace your sires had won,
Accepting with no faltering voice the challenge of the Hun,
But warm hearts half the world away of mothers and of wives
Prepare kind welcome in their homes to shield our children's lives.
We can face the fight in firmer faith who know beyond the sea
Your love for Britain still inspires such splendid loyalty.
Accepting with no faltering voice the challenge of the Hun,
12
Prepare kind welcome in their homes to shield our children's lives.
We can face the fight in firmer faith who know beyond the sea
Your love for Britain still inspires such splendid loyalty.
13
The Degenerates:
To Fuehrers and Verfuehrers
You deemed our empire overgrown and withering at the root,
Its parent city a grand place, your Bluecher said, to loot.
We had meant to be good neighbours, we praised your enterprise,
And never dreamed that welcomed guests were really well-trained spies.
Your aim was world-dominion, and we stood in your way—
A sterner fibre nerved us once but we had had our day.
Its parent city a grand place, your Bluecher said, to loot.
We had meant to be good neighbours, we praised your enterprise,
And never dreamed that welcomed guests were really well-trained spies.
Your aim was world-dominion, and we stood in your way—
A sterner fibre nerved us once but we had had our day.
Wherefore with specious falsehoods and eyes on our estate
Your envious millions were inspired to nurse a rabid hate.
You had branded us degenerates, but since we might resist
Weak nations first must learn to feel the weight of your mailed fist.
And all that man's long effort has 'stablished and reveres
You scorned and did not scruple to drown in blood and tears.
Your envious millions were inspired to nurse a rabid hate.
You had branded us degenerates, but since we might resist
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And all that man's long effort has 'stablished and reveres
You scorned and did not scruple to drown in blood and tears.
Half Europe bides your menace now, and only air and sea
Where Britain guards the highway can make and keep her free.
Though all the rest may falter this People that I knew,
With sons and kin from oversea, to Britain staunch and true,
Heirs of a great tradition, will not belie her past
Upholding freedom's banner rock-steadfast to the last.
Where Britain guards the highway can make and keep her free.
Though all the rest may falter this People that I knew,
With sons and kin from oversea, to Britain staunch and true,
Heirs of a great tradition, will not belie her past
Upholding freedom's banner rock-steadfast to the last.
15
November, 1939
Out of the vastness traversed by the waveWhich brings the messages of lips unseen
There came a call to Britain from the Queen,
Direct, inspiring, confident and brave.
If those clear accents, mightier than the pen
In world-wide range, that listening millions heard
Appealed to women, none the less her word
Enlisted all the chivalry of men.
We have a debt of honour to repay,
We shall not falter in the manly part,
We shall not fail to keep our scutcheon clean,
Whate'er the cost, however hard the way;
But we shall fight on with a greater heart,
Who bear her gage as champions of our Queen.
16
The Nation's Hymn
It has stirred me like the voice of homeWorld over, wheresoe'er
Assembled Britons chant the hymn
That is a nation's prayer.
But most my heart has felt its call
In mighty battleships,
Where solemn unison inspires
A thousand fervent lips.
Yet, when I heard it yestereve
I questioned if before
The sense of all it symbolised
Had ever moved me more.
For first the unseen viol-strings
Recalled to hearts oppressed
The anthems that are silenced now
In nations dispossessed;
Then strong, as if atoning, swelled
That hymn the British sing
Serene with faith undaunted,
Our own God Save the King.
17
Finland Hail!
Hail, ancient people of the northern sea,
In number small, but great in heart and mind,
Not envying others, save that they were free,
Maintaining long tradition, unresigned
To alien rule, impatient for release
To live self-centred your own lives in peace!
In number small, but great in heart and mind,
Not envying others, save that they were free,
Maintaining long tradition, unresigned
To alien rule, impatient for release
To live self-centred your own lives in peace!
A little nation, shadowed by the strength
Of circling millions, they kept sharp their swords,
Enduring, not submissive. Then at length
The great day dawned, when they defied the hordes
Of a vast empire, and alone assailed
The old oppression and alone prevailed.
Of circling millions, they kept sharp their swords,
Enduring, not submissive. Then at length
The great day dawned, when they defied the hordes
Of a vast empire, and alone assailed
The old oppression and alone prevailed.
But brief was Finland's happy spell, once more
That old oppressor in a new disguise,
Claimed overlordship of their Baltic shore,
Masked in discreet benevolence of lies.
Yet those few years had steeled a patriot will
And hard-won freedom seemed but dearer still.
That old oppressor in a new disguise,
Claimed overlordship of their Baltic shore,
Masked in discreet benevolence of lies.
Yet those few years had steeled a patriot will
And hard-won freedom seemed but dearer still.
18
What though outnumbered more than fifty-fold
They faced like men who trusted in their star,
Great armies panoplied with stolen gold
And murderous engines of unequal war.
They, without allies but their ice and snow,
Flung back the challenge with a splendid ‘No!’
They faced like men who trusted in their star,
Great armies panoplied with stolen gold
And murderous engines of unequal war.
They, without allies but their ice and snow,
Flung back the challenge with a splendid ‘No!’
Hardly, I think, since round Leonidas,
Between the flanks of Oeta and the sea,
Three hundred Spartans in the narrow pass
Dying, immortalised Thermopylae,
Have patriot warriors earned so just a claim
To share their record on the roll of fame.
Between the flanks of Oeta and the sea,
Three hundred Spartans in the narrow pass
Dying, immortalised Thermopylae,
Have patriot warriors earned so just a claim
To share their record on the roll of fame.
Free nations of the world, will you endure
This people's re-enslavement, or that he,
The bandit neighbour, crazy with the lure
Of world dominion, should aspire to be
Your arbiter, predestined to replace
Your code of morals with his claims of race?
This people's re-enslavement, or that he,
The bandit neighbour, crazy with the lure
Of world dominion, should aspire to be
Your arbiter, predestined to replace
Your code of morals with his claims of race?
Will you permit earth-hunger and the lust
For mastery to revive the brute in man,
And suffer all the wise, the brave, the just
Have 'stablished since his upward trend began
To count as naught? You that are sane and free
Unite, proclaim ‘We will not have this be.’
For mastery to revive the brute in man,
And suffer all the wise, the brave, the just
Have 'stablished since his upward trend began
To count as naught? You that are sane and free
Unite, proclaim ‘We will not have this be.’
19
To the Air-men of France
We vaunted many a gallant deedIn wars of long ago
When rivalries of State decreed
A friend should be a foe.
But peace restored made swift amends
For blows not struck in hate,
And ancient foes should be firm friends
In this grim hour of fate.
If Britain claimed her island due,
Dominion on the sea,
Nor we nor you were less than true
To the code of chivalry.
Now, with a menaced world to save
We should be proud to share,
With wings outsoaring strand and wave,
Dominion in the air.
20
Crederit quia Absurdum
To the Fuehrer
I
You say in Mein Kampf, ‘When you have to lie don't lie in a minor key;It would not convince the people, not even coming from me.’
So when you lie for a purpose you lie on a superscale,
And the average man will not believe that you could invent the tale.
The absurd he will readily swallow. Maybe; but bethink you first,
When you lie, of the frog in the fable who swelled so big that he burst.
II
Wer einmal lügt, den glaubt man nicht
Und wenn er auch die Wahrheit spricht.
Und wenn er auch die Wahrheit spricht.
‘Who once has lied’—I learned in youth
The precept in an old refrain—
‘Will never be believed again
Not even when he tells the truth.’
But you with purpose to deceive
Remodelled that old rhyme
To ‘Lie not once but all the time,
And many people will believe.’
21
Hellas
In Homage to a Royal Bride
There is a land the sun loves moreThan other lands of earth
Where men revered in ancient lore
The cradle of his birth;
Where still as when the old world called
A Siren voice beguiles
The wanderer to abide enthralled
Among enchanted isles:
A land with scanty wealth to boast
Save vines and olive trees
On terraced slopes that ward her coast
Against encroaching seas.
Where that tradition has not died
Which welcomes whoso roams
With tidings from the world outside
In hospitable homes.
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More near the soul of things,
And nature eager to reveal
Mysterious communings;
Whose harmonies of tone and form
And clear pellucid air
First gave ungoverned minds a norm
And made man's thought aware;
Whose marble cliffs lent their white heart
To masters of design,
Interpreting in terms of art
Their dream of the divine,
The land which quickened worlds unborn
And sowed for all to reap,
And then, forgotten and forlorn
Sank in an age-long sleep,
While Frank and Moslem hordes displaced
The gods they did not know,
And uncouth battlements defaced
Their shrines, yet, even so
The envious fates that know no ruth,
The doom long years exact
Proved vain to mar her ageless youth,
She woke, but one thing lacked
To gladden the reviving soul
Of living Greece again,
A Fairy Princess to control
The loyalties of men.
23
Are destined for their land,
To claim the love none may refuse
When you bestow your hand.
24
Legend
No sandal round the cloisters crept,
The solemn precinct slept,
Since midnight's curtained silence fell
Until the matins bell.
A single vigilant in prayer
Knelt at an altar-stair.
His eyes' young blue, his hair's long gold,
Were goodly to behold,
Although the lamp that lighted him
Burned tremulous and dim.
He said, ‘I lay my birth right down
To sceptre and to crown.
The pride of race, the pomp of state,
To God I consecrate.
I have no need for helm or sword
Whom no man shall call lord;
The golden spurs are no more meet
To deck my unmailed feet,
Who barefoot choose as greater gain
To tread my path in pain.’
The solemn precinct slept,
Since midnight's curtained silence fell
Until the matins bell.
A single vigilant in prayer
Knelt at an altar-stair.
His eyes' young blue, his hair's long gold,
Were goodly to behold,
Although the lamp that lighted him
Burned tremulous and dim.
He said, ‘I lay my birth right down
To sceptre and to crown.
The pride of race, the pomp of state,
To God I consecrate.
I have no need for helm or sword
Whom no man shall call lord;
The golden spurs are no more meet
To deck my unmailed feet,
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To tread my path in pain.’
Her statue carved in painted wood
Stirred where the Virgin stood,
And in the shadowy niche her face
Assumed a living grace.
The seven swords that pierce her soul
Gleamed, and her aureole.
The hands unclasped and waxen white
Reached out across the night,
And on his head she bending down
Laid her own red-rose crown.
‘Nay, Blessed Guardian of my vow,
No roses decked the brow
Of him who had no place,’ he said,
‘In which to lay his head.
Give me some other sign, I pray,
To bear upon my way.
No blooms of earth or paradise
Crowned love's great sacrifice:
I would renounce, could that but be,
As wholly as did He.’
Stirred where the Virgin stood,
And in the shadowy niche her face
Assumed a living grace.
The seven swords that pierce her soul
Gleamed, and her aureole.
The hands unclasped and waxen white
Reached out across the night,
And on his head she bending down
Laid her own red-rose crown.
‘Nay, Blessed Guardian of my vow,
No roses decked the brow
Of him who had no place,’ he said,
‘In which to lay his head.
Give me some other sign, I pray,
To bear upon my way.
No blooms of earth or paradise
Crowned love's great sacrifice:
I would renounce, could that but be,
As wholly as did He.’
Then as in answer to the prayer
From his long golden hair
On the cold stone which paved the cell
The crimson petals fell,
While through the flesh a piercing smart
Pulsed to his beating heart;
And redder than that rosy rain
One print of deeper stain
Bore witness that his brows had borne
A diadem of thorn.
From his long golden hair
On the cold stone which paved the cell
The crimson petals fell,
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Pulsed to his beating heart;
And redder than that rosy rain
One print of deeper stain
Bore witness that his brows had borne
A diadem of thorn.
27
Folk Song
Bind the distaff round with white
Spin for your true love's delight,
Spin a veil to lift aside
When he claims you as his bride.
Spin for your true love's delight,
Spin a veil to lift aside
When he claims you as his bride.
Bind the distaff round with blue
Spinning for the priest his due,
A stole to wear when you two stand
By his altar hand in hand.
Spinning for the priest his due,
A stole to wear when you two stand
By his altar hand in hand.
Bind the distaff round with rose
Spin, as dawn to daylight grows,
Spin to weave white linen, meet
For the first-born's cradle sheet.
Spin, as dawn to daylight grows,
Spin to weave white linen, meet
For the first-born's cradle sheet.
Bind the distaff round with red
When you need to spin the thread
For a kerchief soft to dry
Tears which gather in the eye.
When you need to spin the thread
For a kerchief soft to dry
Tears which gather in the eye.
Bound with sable let it be
When you spin, with few to see,
For the shroud wherein to lie
We shall fold you when you die.
When you spin, with few to see,
For the shroud wherein to lie
We shall fold you when you die.
28
Fresh Woods and Pastures New
Here by the forest edge the cuckoo-flowers
The border dwellers cluster in the sun.
Invading bracken spreads its new green fronds
Beside close thorn and hazel, and beyond
No ripple stirs the grasses or the wheat;
Life seems arrested in the pause of noon.
Then from afar a soft wind gathers breath
Quickens the tree-tops, quivers the still leaves,
Sets all the hazel rustling, bends the fern
And breaking silence as it passes brings
A message from the infinite to me.
The border dwellers cluster in the sun.
Invading bracken spreads its new green fronds
Beside close thorn and hazel, and beyond
No ripple stirs the grasses or the wheat;
Life seems arrested in the pause of noon.
Then from afar a soft wind gathers breath
Quickens the tree-tops, quivers the still leaves,
Sets all the hazel rustling, bends the fern
And breaking silence as it passes brings
A message from the infinite to me.
And the wind said, yon flowers of the field
Born to be beautiful and so fulfil
Their part in a great harmony, all those
Gold-hearted daisies, wide to drink the sun
And poppies on the fringe of last year's corn
Hold seed of beauty that is yet to be—
But they bloom barren till some breeze like mine
Or honey-questing bee may chance to bear
The golden pollen to expectant lips.
And of these myriad frail existencies,—
Despite the scent of kindred blossom near
And nature's lavish effort to survive,—
How many are terminate in beauty, fade
Fast rooted with no favouring wind for friend!
And are not we as they are? Though some few
Shall be fulfilled of loving ere they die
How many wait and dream their dream in vain.
Born to be beautiful and so fulfil
Their part in a great harmony, all those
Gold-hearted daisies, wide to drink the sun
And poppies on the fringe of last year's corn
Hold seed of beauty that is yet to be—
But they bloom barren till some breeze like mine
Or honey-questing bee may chance to bear
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And of these myriad frail existencies,—
Despite the scent of kindred blossom near
And nature's lavish effort to survive,—
How many are terminate in beauty, fade
Fast rooted with no favouring wind for friend!
And are not we as they are? Though some few
Shall be fulfilled of loving ere they die
How many wait and dream their dream in vain.
Deep in the forest now! where twilight stems
Taper in purple to a golden red.
But in the solemn silence no bird sings,
And if the feet of little fawns should trip
Between the tree-trunks you would hardly hear
The old moss lies so deep. But you might ask
Do not the white clouds whisper to their crests
‘Look through us at the wonderful deep blue’
That so their branches strain to reach the sky.
I feel there moves not any harmful thing
Through this unbroken solitude of trees.
Whose very stillness has a soothing power,
Dispelling restless doubtings and desires,
Leaving the soul self-centred. It is good
To be here with the silence. Very good.
Taper in purple to a golden red.
But in the solemn silence no bird sings,
And if the feet of little fawns should trip
Between the tree-trunks you would hardly hear
The old moss lies so deep. But you might ask
Do not the white clouds whisper to their crests
‘Look through us at the wonderful deep blue’
That so their branches strain to reach the sky.
I feel there moves not any harmful thing
Through this unbroken solitude of trees.
Whose very stillness has a soothing power,
Dispelling restless doubtings and desires,
Leaving the soul self-centred. It is good
To be here with the silence. Very good.
My pathway led me to a woodland mere
With reed-beds haunted by the dragon-fly,
Where the roe drinks at even, and the clouds
Reflect a pearl-like image, sailing past.
I wonder if the emerald dragon-fly
Hovers for memory over lakes and streams
Where the life impulse stirred a worm to spin
A hanging cradle in the swaying reeds,
Its winter prison that the sun broke through
To radiate the filmy wings and free
A rainbow marvel to the summer air.
With reed-beds haunted by the dragon-fly,
30
Reflect a pearl-like image, sailing past.
I wonder if the emerald dragon-fly
Hovers for memory over lakes and streams
Where the life impulse stirred a worm to spin
A hanging cradle in the swaying reeds,
Its winter prison that the sun broke through
To radiate the filmy wings and free
A rainbow marvel to the summer air.
Then a wide clearing opened; meadow lands
In sunshine perfumed by the new-mown hay,
A village with red roofs and steepled church,
A graveyard at the lifting of a hill,
All forest-girdled to assure their peace.
In sunshine perfumed by the new-mown hay,
A village with red roofs and steepled church,
A graveyard at the lifting of a hill,
All forest-girdled to assure their peace.
Too long have I dwelt in cities, spent my soul
In concentration on material ends.
Here sense and spirit are in mute accord,
Here speaks unchallenged living nature's voice.
Beat into mine world's heart and make me feel
The magic of the eternal miracle,
No more perplexed why others miss the way.
Because always the marvels of our earth
Lie round them widespread these they hardly heed.
They only grasp the fragment and the whole
Escapes a vision blind to all beside
That use has made familiar. Therefore they
Note first the discords in the harmony,
Rail at the shadow and forget the sun.
In concentration on material ends.
Here sense and spirit are in mute accord,
Here speaks unchallenged living nature's voice.
Beat into mine world's heart and make me feel
The magic of the eternal miracle,
No more perplexed why others miss the way.
Because always the marvels of our earth
Lie round them widespread these they hardly heed.
They only grasp the fragment and the whole
Escapes a vision blind to all beside
That use has made familiar. Therefore they
31
Rail at the shadow and forget the sun.
Consider the mute lore of little things.
What master-craftsman, though he gave long years
To match one marvel of our everyday,
Scattered in myriads, could have graded so
A leaf of any wayside rose that blooms
Inevitably beautiful, or mould
One simple feather from the wild-bird's wing?
Then dimly wondering try to apprehend
That which not merely fashioned but conceived
Controlled creation, and in that thought daze.
What master-craftsman, though he gave long years
To match one marvel of our everyday,
Scattered in myriads, could have graded so
A leaf of any wayside rose that blooms
Inevitably beautiful, or mould
One simple feather from the wild-bird's wing?
Then dimly wondering try to apprehend
That which not merely fashioned but conceived
Controlled creation, and in that thought daze.
And yet assurance, not in words expressed,
Not issuing from a presence palpable,
But echoed from a world beyond my ken,
Convinces some immortal sense in me
Of potency to grasp all amplitudes,
To outsoar the finite, compassing the whole,
An all that is, but for us is not yet,
Because God's now is not in time or space.
Not issuing from a presence palpable,
But echoed from a world beyond my ken,
Convinces some immortal sense in me
Of potency to grasp all amplitudes,
To outsoar the finite, compassing the whole,
An all that is, but for us is not yet,
Because God's now is not in time or space.
32
Epilogue To L. R.
Ere long on this deserted shoreSea-folk will spread their gear,
And stretch the sail and paint the oar
Because the spring is near.
In a little while seas will be blue
And west winds warm again,
And I shall want to sail with you
To lands beyond the main.
We know the lure of sail and spur,
The call of the unknown;
And why should brain or heart demur
When the young birds are flown?
A hand that beckoned us to roam
Determined you and I
Should keep no anchor grounded home
But wander till we die.
A world yet unexplored extends
Past yon horizon's rim,
And where the bounded unknown ends
The unknowable is dim;
But so we pass with unbowed head
And eyes towards the sun;
We reck not where the tent be spread
When the last march is done.
| War poems with some others | |