The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 40

IV

In n.o.bler breeds we put our trust: The nations in whose sacred lore The "Ought" stands out above the "Must,"

And honor rules in peace and war.

With these we hold in soul and heart, With these we choose our lot and part, Till Liberty is safe on sea and sh.o.r.e.

_London Times_, February 12, 1917.

"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD"

Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land.

No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea: The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all.

O cruel is the conquer-l.u.s.t in Hohenzollern brains: The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains; No faith they keep, no law revere, no G.o.d but naked Might; They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty, and smite!

Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn!

Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies.

O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire: For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the warlords cease, And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace.

_London Times_, April 12, 1917.

THE OXFORD THRUSHES

February, 1917

I never thought again to hear The Oxford thrushes singing clear, Amid the February rain, Their sweet, indomitable strain.

A wintry vapor lightly spreads Among the trees, and round the beds Where daffodil and jonquil sleep; Only the snowdrop wakes to weep.

It is not springtime yet. Alas, What dark, tempestuous days must pa.s.s, Till England's trial by battle cease, And summer comes again with peace.

The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, Where Learning in untroubled hours Held her high court, serene in fame, Are lovely still, yet not the same.

The novices in fluttering gown No longer fill the ancient town; But fighting men in khaki drest, And in the Schools the wounded rest.

Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies Full many a son of Oxford lies, And whispers from his warrior grave, "I died to keep the faith you gave."

The mother mourns, but does not fail, Her courage and her love prevail O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears The promise of triumphant years.

Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain Your sweet indomitable strain.

Ye bring a word from G.o.d on high And voices in our hearts reply.

HOMEWARD BOUND

Home, for my heart still calls me; Home, through the danger zone; Home, whatever befalls me, I will sail again to my own!

Wolves of the sea are hiding Closely along the way, Under the water biding Their moment to rend and slay.

Black is the eagle that brands them, Black are their hearts as the nights Black is the hate that sends them To murder but not to fight.

Flower of the German Culture, Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, Choose for your emblem the vulture, Cowardly, cruel, obscene!

Forth from her sheltered haven Our peaceful ship glides slow, Noiseless in flight as a raven, Gray as a hoodie crow.

She doubles and turns in her bearing, Like a twisting plover she goes; The way of her westward faring Only the captain knows.

In a lonely bay concealing She lingers for days, and slips At dusk from her covert, stealing Thro' channels feared by the ships.

Brave are the men, and steady, Who guide her over the deep,-- British mariners, ready To face the sea-wolf's leap.

Lord of the winds and waters, Bring our ship to her mark, Safe from this game of hide-and-seek With murderers in the dark!

On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917.

THE WINDS OF WAR-NEWS

The winds of war-news change and veer: Now westerly and full of cheer, Now easterly, depressing, sour With tidings of the Teutons' power.

But thou, America, whose heart With brave Allies has taken part, Be not a weatherc.o.c.k to change With these wild winds that shift and range.

Be thou a compa.s.s ever true, Through sullen clouds or skies of blue, To that great star which rules the night,-- The star of Liberty and Right.

Lover of peace, oh set thy soul, Thy strength, thy wealth, thy conscience whole, To win the peace thine eyes foresee,-- The triumph of Democracy.

December 19, 1917.

RIGHTEOUS WRATH

There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire; And some are fierce and fatal with murderous desire; And some are mean and craven, revengeful, sullen, slow, They hurt the man that holds them more than they hurt his foe.

And yet there is an anger that purifies the heart: The anger of the better against the baser part, Against the false and wicked, against the tyrant's sword, Against the enemies of love, and all that hate the Lord.