A NEW WORLD.
Out of wounds and sore defeat I made my battle stay; Winged sandals for my feet ( w ove of my delay. Of weariness and fear I made my shouting spear; Of loss, and doubt, and droaJ, \nd swift on-coming doom I made a helmet for tr.y head, And a floating plume; From the shutting mist of death, From the failure of the breath 1 made a battle-horn to blow Across the valley of overthrow; O hearken, love, the battle-horn, The triumph clear, the silver scorn. O hearken, where the echoes bring Down the grey, disastrous morn laughter .and rallying. —From “Reconciliation.”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/WHIRIB19280418.2.3
Bibliographic details
White Ribbon, Volume 33, Issue 393, 18 April 1928, Page 7
Word Count
104A NEW WORLD. White Ribbon, Volume 33, Issue 393, 18 April 1928, Page 7
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