Two Fishers, and Other Poems Part 3

Kind Heaven will comfort my wracked wits Before I'm blown to little bits.

SICKNESS IN WINTER

Once as I on sick-bed lay I woke crying for my mother.

But she was eight hundred miles away, Leagues and leagues of sea between, And the land all frozen hard and gray.

She was so very old, I ween She could not have moved a mile that day; For the land was frozen stiff and gray, And the menacing seas rolled all between.

NATURE IN WAR-TIME

If flowers could speak And leaves and plants knew words, In what strange phrase of chiding would they seek To tell their anger at this clash of swords!

The blossom that was made for joy and praise, High bending gra.s.ses, and the trees so tall Tremble for terror in the forest ways.

I see them shake and shake, as live men fall.

Shrapnel crushes them in its fierce caress; The black guns chant a paean of their skill.

But little recks the world in its distress The sorrow that is silent on the hill.

COURAGE

I

I'd once a friend--what joy to say!-- Who when he took a holiday Would climb the towering Dolomites And strive with Fear upon the heights; Tied to a rope, down dangling sheer, He'd talk to G.o.d through clouds of Fear.

O give me friends like that, I say, And such a gallant holiday.

II

I'd another friend, in another pale, Who spent a holiday in jail.

He fought for what his heart deemed right, And they shut him up in walls of night.

Yet merrily his heart did sing Like a mating bird that hails the Spring.

AUNT ZILLAH SPEAKS

I never look upon the sea And hear its waves sighing, But I must hie me home again To still my heart's wild crying.

All my years like drowned sailors, All my days that used to be, Seem drifting in the silver spray And mourning by the sea.

But when I take a holiday I go where flowers are growing, Where thrushes sing and skylarks wing And happy streams are flowing; And the great hills clothed with bracken, As far as I would flee, Fling their towering crests to the stars on high To hide me from the sea.

TALKING TO G.o.d

A fighting man lay down for ease In the shade of two tall forest trees Deep dinted with bullet and sh.e.l.l.

And one tree said to the other, "Is not this worn soldier our brother!

And has he not vowed to defend This strip of green glade till the End!

Let us thank the kind Father in Heaven For this kinship of man He has given."

The trees talked to G.o.d all the night, And they thrilled with a soaring delight.

SACRIFICE

When Jesus was crucified The German roamed in his forests, And the blood of the Frenchman surged in the veins Of the Roman who pierced His side.

And we, the British, we were not,-- Though a dream that He cherished.

And for each and all Christ died.

PROPHECY

When the cruel War is over The Earth will sing like a lover; And gra.s.ses, flowers, and trees Will shake with joy in the breeze.

Very old weary men Will know their youth again.

And be blithe as England's soldiers when They first sailed o'er the seas.

And Wisdom lately spent Will steal forth from banishment, All betimes in the morning, Like a bride to her adorning, Gay and very wistful, Singing with her heart full, She will hide her forehead's scars With the fairest of Heaven's stars.

And the tongue will leap with the brain, And not clank in a forger's chain, As it has been heretofore With Truth's jailer at the door; As it was on this globe prison Ere the soul of man had risen.

And the dead in the morning dim Will reign as the seraphim.

They will fan to flame man's spirit To a whiter purer merit.

There will be a new beginning, And some shall cease from sinning,-- When the bitter strife is over, And the Earth is Heaven's lover.