Part 2 (1/2)

XII--ETCHING

Two and thirty is the ploughman.

He's a man of gallant inches, And his hair is close and curly, And his beard; But his face is wan and sunken, And his eyes are large and brilliant, And his shoulder-blades are sharp, And his knees.

He is weak of wits, religious, Full of sentiment and yearning, Gentle, faded--with a cough And a snore.

When his wife (who was a widow, And is many years his elder) Fails to write, and that is always, He desponds.

Let his melancholy wander, And he'll tell you pretty stories Of the women that have wooed him Long ago; Or he'll sing of bonnie la.s.ses Keeping sheep among the heather, With a crackling, hackling click In his voice.

XIII--CASUALTY

As with varnish red and glistening Dripped his hair; his feet looked rigid; Raised, he settled stiffly sideways: You could see his hurts were spinal.

He had fallen from an engine, And been dragged along the metals.

It was hopeless, and they knew it; So they covered him, and left him.

As he lay, by fits half sentient, Inarticulately moaning, With his stockinged soles protruded Stark and awkward from the blankets,

To his bed there came a woman, Stood and looked and sighed a little, And departed without speaking, As himself a few hours after.

I was told it was his sweetheart.

They were on the eve of marriage.

She was quiet as a statue, But her lip was grey and writhen.

XIV--AVE CAESER!

From the winter's grey despair, From the summer's golden languor, Death, the lover of Life, Frees us for ever.

Inevitable, silent, unseen, Everywhere always, Shadow by night and as light in the day, Signs she at last to her chosen; And, as she waves them forth, Sorrow and Joy Lay by their looks and their voices, Set down their hopes, and are made One in the dim Forever.

Into the winter's grey delight, Into the summer's golden dream, Holy and high and impartial, Death, the mother of Life, Mingles all men for ever.

XV--'THE CHIEF'

His brow spreads large and placid, and his eye Is deep and bright, with steady looks that still.

Soft lines of tranquil thought his face fulfill - His face at once benign and proud and shy.

If envy scout, if ignorance deny, His faultless patience, his unyielding will, Beautiful gentleness and splendid skill, Innumerable grat.i.tudes reply.