SELECTED POETRY

Evening Star, Issue 16993, 15 March 1919, Page 4

SELECTED POETRY

FIGHTING SHIPS OF ENGLAND.

The fighting ships of England, they sailed ■ the seven seas, , . From the Clyde and rainy Cornwall to the sunlit Cyclades, Vancouver, Yokohama, Pacific Isles forlorn, The Orkneys, Nova Scotia, 'round Good Hope and the Horn, And everywhere men wondered, and everywhere men saw, That the fighting ships of England brought Anglo-Saxon W Not the law of lawless rulers, misruling in the name Of God o'er godless kingdoms; but where those great-ships came Wns certain death to tyrants, and so the uayinjr ran: " Trade follows the flag)—and justice and the ancient rights of man." n. The fighting ships of England, those good grey men-of-war, Were gathered once at Whitby, from cruising fast and far, When sudden and clear at daybreak the call to action rang-. For the Gorman Midgard serpent had struck with his iron fang— Struck, and the whole world shuddered, as if with a mortal wound — But quietly sailed at sunrise the Grand Fleet, eastward bound; And the North Sea hop* the secret—how the hell-born powers recoiled — And the world was saved for fredom, and the Faftiir's brood was foiled. While many a distant harbor and many a far-flung key Saw the good ships of England as they kept the ocean freo. ir\ The right arm of Great Britain—who'd shorten that arm now? The Fleet—who'd grudge the splendor of one victorious prow? Behold our fences coastline by foreign foe untrod, Behold our unspoiled cities, our vast inviolate sod; Then rail not at the glory that 'roimd the Grand Fleet clings, For the Sea Hawk held the Vulture till the Eagle found his wings; More power to the Sea Hawk, however strong we be— To the fighting ships of England, that keep the ocean free! —By William Hurd Hillyer. HIS "INCOMPARABLE" FLEET. O! hae ye seen the Kaiser, In his spur! ;ss wooden shoon ? He's grown, a wee bit wieer Since he left his auld hame-toon. The higher soars ambition, The faurer it maun drap, Frae world-powor tae perdition, Is an unco scur mis'hap. Then set yer pipes askirlm,' Play up ' The Cock o' the North,' Frae the Isle o' May ta« Stirlin 3 A'roon the Firth of Forth. For on its. waters lyin.' Is the threat o' voriel disaster. A fangle ss sea-wolf, dyin', A cur that's changed his master. Noo he canna look sae mighty, In his ample HoUaud-breeks, As he wanders (cursiu' Blighty), 'Mans- the crocuses an' leeks, Broodin' o'er his tarnished fame, His broo grows dark wi' care, Nuebody wants him, awa frae hame, And nacbody wants him, there. Then sr-t yer pipes askirlin', etc. His " mailed-fist an' his iron heel" Hac gone tae the meltin' pot, His "glorious lleet," (he pride o' Kiel Condemned tae rust an' rot. Each word o' welcome- oor seamen said Bespoke contempt an' peety; His captains held their swords by th' blade, An' touched their caps tae Beatty. Then set yer pipts atlurlin', etc. i —D. Campbell Patterson. "DER TAG." The Day has jjte-wned; but not "the day" vou toasted Through maddening fumes of flaming words a-id wine, "-TiiC d,;y " when Britain, outmatched and ex : hausted, Would crawl to do her penaiice at your shrine. Yours was tho day whereon your legions ravaged The Soul of Belgium from a. world aghast-; When, riotous with lust, your Princelings savaged And swept, poor France into your holocaust. Tivas then you fouled the sweet WorldWaters seven -i With pirate fleets that left their wake of ] blood ; Then, from the starry vault!, of highest heaven, You rained destruction —in the name of God. So passed your Day, and so your generation, Bevor.d the bourne of pardon and of peace Into the final furnace of damnation, Where Hell consumes tho Devil's infamies. This Day is Ours; awake, ye martyred millions ! Cast oft your shrouds, forgetting all your pain, And rise, rejoicing in the glad carillons That peal to welcome Peace on Earth again. —lan Malcolm, in the 'Daily Mail,' London.