Part 2 (2/2)

”Naught can I offer ye,” quoth Death, ”but rest!”

And to his chamber leads each tired guest.

Equality

I saw a King, who spent his life to weave Into a nation all his great heart thought, Unsatisfied until he should achieve The grand ideal that his manhood sought; Yet as he saw the end within his reach, Death took the sceptre from his failing hand, And all men said, ”He gave his life to teach The task of honour to a sordid land!”

Within his gates I saw, through all those years, One at his humble toil with cheery face, Whom (being dead) the children, half in tears, Remembered oft, and missed him from his place.

If he be greater that his people blessed Than he the children loved, G.o.d knoweth best.

Anarchy

I saw a city filled with l.u.s.t and shame, Where men, like wolves, slunk through the grim half-light; And sudden, in the midst of it, there came One who spoke boldly for the cause of Right.

And speaking, fell before that brutish race Like some poor wren that shrieking eagles tear, While brute Dishonour, with her bloodless face Stood by and smote his lips that moved in prayer.

”Speak not of G.o.d! In centuries that word Hath not been uttered! Our own king are we.”

And G.o.d stretched forth his finger as He heard And o'er it cast a thousand leagues of sea.

Disarmament

One spake amid the nations, ”Let us cease From darkening with strife the fair World's light, We who are great in war be great in peace.

No longer let us plead the cause by might.”

But from a million British graves took birth A silent voice -- the million spake as one -- ”If ye have righted all the wrongs of earth Lay by the sword! Its work and ours is done.”

The Dead Master

Amid earth's vagrant noises, he caught the note sublime: To-day around him surges from the silences of Time A flood of n.o.bler music, like a river deep and broad, Fit song for heroes gathered in the banquet-hall of G.o.d.

The Harvest of the Sea

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