Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!_

THE SWORD OF ENGLAND

(_Written during a European war crisis_)

Not as one muttering in a spell-bound sleep Shall England speak the word; Not idly bid the embattled lightnings leap, Nor lightly draw the sword!

Let statesmen grope by night in a blind dream, The cold clear morning star Should like a trophy in her helmet gleam When England sweeps to war!

Not like a derelict, drunk with surf and spray, And drifting down to doom; But like the Sun-G.o.d calling up the day Should England rend that gloom.

Not as in trance, at some hypnotic call, Nor with a doubtful cry; But a clear faith, like a banner above us all, Rolling from sky to sky.

She sheds no blood to that vain G.o.d of strife Whom striplings call "renown"; She knows that only they who reverence life Can n.o.bly lay it down;

And these will ride from child and home and love, Through death and h.e.l.l that day; But O, her faith, her flag, must burn above, Her soul must lead the way!

THE DAWN OF PEACE

Yes--"on our brows we feel the breath Of dawn," though in the night we wait!

An arrow is in the heart of Death, A G.o.d is at the doors of Fate!

The spirit that moved upon the Deep Is moving through the minds of men: The nations feel it in their sleep, A change has touched their dreams again.

Voices, confused, and faint, arise, Troubling their hearts from East and West.

A doubtful light is in their skies, A gleam that will not let them rest: The dawn, the dawn is on the wing, The stir of change on every side, Unsignalled as the approach of Spring, Invincible as the hawthorn-tide.

Have ye not heard it, far and nigh, The voice of France across the dark, And all the Atlantic with one cry Beating the sh.o.r.es of Europe?--hark!

Then--if ye will--uplift your word Of cynic wisdom! Once again Tell us He came to bring a sword, Tell us He lived and died in vain.

Say that we dream! Our dreams have woven Truths that out-face the burning sun: The lightnings, that we dreamed, have cloven Time, s.p.a.ce, and linked all lands in one!

Dreams! But their swift celestial fingers Have knit the world with threads of steel, Till no remotest island lingers Beyond the world's one Commonweal.

Tell us that custom, sloth, and fear Are strong, then name them "common-sense"!

Tell us that greed rules everywhere, Then dub the lie "experience": Year after year, age after age, Has handed down, thro' fool and child, For earth's divinest heritage The dreams whereon old wisdom smiled.

Dreams are they? But ye cannot stay them, Or thrust the dawn back for one hour!

Truth, Love, and Justice, if ye slay them, Return with more than earthly power: Strive, if ye will, to seal the fountains That send the Spring thro' leaf and spray: Drive back the sun from the Eastern mountains, Then--bid this mightier movement stay.

It is the Dawn of Peace! The nations From East to West have heard a cry,-- "Through all earth's blood-red generations By hate and slaughter climbed thus high, Here--on this height--still to aspire, One only path remains untrod, One path of love and peace climbs higher!

Make straight that highway for our G.o.d."

THE BRINGERS OF GOOD NEWS

Like fallen stars the watch-fires gleamed Along our menaced age that night!

Our bivouacked century tossed and dreamed Of battle with the approaching light.

Rumors of change, a sea-like roar, Shook the firm earth with doubt and dread: The clouds, in rushing legions bore Their tattered eagles overhead.

I saw the m.u.f.fled sentries rest On the dark hills of Time. I saw Around them march from East to West The stars of the unresting law.

I knew that in their mighty course They brought the dawn, they brought the day; And that the unconquerable force Of the new years was on the way.

I heard the feet of that great throng!

I saw them shine, like hope, afar!

Their shout, their shout was like a song, And O, 'twas not a song of war!

Yet, as the whole world with their tramp Quivered, a signal-lightning spoke, A bugle warned our darkling camp, And, like a thunder-cloud, it woke.

Our searchlights raked the world's wide ends.

O'er the dark hills a grey light crept.

Down, through the light, that host of friends We took for foemen, triumphing swept.

The old century could not hear their cry, How should it hear the song they sang?

_We bring good news!_ It pierced the sky!

_We bring good news!_ The welkin rang.

One shout of triumph and of faith; And then--our shattering cannon roared!

But, over the reeking ranks of death, The song rose like a single sword.

_We bring good news!_ Red flared the guns!

_We bring good news!_ The sabres flashed!

And the dark age with its own sons In blind and furious battle clashed.

A swift, a terrible bugle pealed.

The sulphurous clouds were rolled away.

Embraced, embraced, on that red field, The wounded and the dying lay.

_We bring good news!_ Blood choked the word, --_We knew you not; so dark the night!-- O father, was I worth your sword?

O son, O herald of the light!_

_We bring good news!_--The darkness fills Mine eyes!--Nay, the night ebbs away!

And, over the everlasting hills, The great new dawn led on the day.

THE LONELY SHRINE