ESSAYS IN VERSE

Evening Post, Volume LXXXIX, Issue 126, 29 May 1915, Page 16

ESSAYS IN VERSE

A CHANT OF LOVE FOR ENGLAND. Glorj of thought and glory of deed, , Glory of Hampden and Runnymede; Glory of ships that sought far goals, Glory of swords and glory of eouls ! Glory of songs mounting as birds, Glory immortal of magical words; Glorjr of Milton, glory of Nelson. Tragical glory of Gordon and Scott; Glory of Shelley, glory of Sidney, Glory transcendent that perishes not — Hers is the story, hers be the glory, England ! Shatter her beauteous breast ye may ; The Spirit of England none can slay ! Dash tho bomb on the dome of Paul's — Deem je th© fame of the Admiral falls? Pry the stone from the chancel floorDream ye that Shakespeare shall live no more ? Where is the giant shot that kills Wordsworth walking the old green hills? Trample the red rose on the ground — Keats is beauty whilo earth spins round I Bind her, grind her, burn her with fire, Cast her ashes into the sea — * She shall escape, she shall aspire, She shall arise to make men free; She shall arise in a sacred scorn, Lighting the lives that are yet unborn ; Spirit supernal, Splendour eternal, England ! — Helen Gray Cone. Atlantic Magazine. FINIS, I leaned from the open window, Then out of the door I sped, The twilight fast was falling, Tho warm glad day was dead. The evening star was leading; They followed on— the hosts Of stars belated shining Through mists like far-off ghost*. Of dying worlds i forsaken, Yet steadfast in their flight, Over tho rim of earthland They faded from my sight. But over the earth a glory Day never know had come, Will it be like this, I wondered, When evening calls me home? Shall I go with the pomp, th© splendour That attends the death of day, Around me hovering angels To show me of the way, Or will it be that darkness Will close around, the fear Of the unknown make me tremble As the eventide draws near? I know not of the ending, Why quiver with alarms? In life or death my eafety Is in the Sheltering Arms. —Nelly Hart Woodwortb. Springfield Republican. AMERICA AND ENGLAND. 0 England, in the emoking trenches dying For all the world, Wo hold our breath and watch your bright flag flying While ours is furled. Wo say we're neutral (yet aach lip with fervour The word abjures); O England, never name us the time server ! Our hearts are yours — Wo who so glory in your high decision, So trust your goal, All Europe's in our blood, but jours oat vision, Our »poob!i, our soul.