These shall come down to the battle and snatch you from under the rods? From the gusty, flickering gun-roll with viewless salvoes rent, And the pitted hail of the bullets that tell not whence they were sent. When ye are ringed as with iron, when ye are scourged as with whips, When the meat is yet in your belly, and the boast is yet on your lips; When ye go forth at morning and the noon beholds you broke, Ere ye lie down at even, your remnant, under the yoke? No doubt but ye are the People-absolute, strong, and wise; Whatever your heart has desired ye have not withheld from your eyes. On your own heads, in your own hands, the sin and the saving lies! THE VETERANS (Written for the gathering of survivors of the Indian Mutiny, Albert Hall, 1907.) TO-DAY, across our fathers' graves, The remnant of that desperate host Hail and farewell! We greet you here, With tears that none will scorn O Keepers of the House of old, Or ever we were born! One service more we dare to ask- That when Fate lays on us our task THE DYKES 1902 WE HAVE no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more; All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny There is no proof in the bread we eat or rest in the toil we ply. Look you, our foreshore stretches far through sea-gate, dyke, and groin Made land all, that our fathers made, where the flats and the fairway join. They forced the sea a sea-league back. They died, and their work stood fast. We were born to peace in the lee of the dykes, but the time of our peace is past. Far off, the full tide clambers and slips, mouthing and testing all, Nipping the flanks of the water-gates, baying along the wall; Turning the shingle, returning the shingle, changing the set of the sand We are too far from the beach, men say, to know how the outworks stand. So we come down, uneasy, to look, uneasily pacing the beach. These are the dykes our fathers made: we have never known a breach. Time and again has the gale blown by and we were not afraid; Now we come only to look at the dykes-at the dykes our fathers made. O'er the marsh where the homesteads cower apart the harried sunlight flies, Shifts and considers, wanes and recovers, scatters and sickens and dies An evil ember bedded in ash-a spark blown west by the wind . . We are surrendered to night and the sea-the gale and the tide behind! At the bridge of the lower saltings the cattle gather and blare, Roused by the feet of running men, dazed by the lantern glare. Unbar and let them away for their lives-the levels drown as they stand, Where the flood-wash forces the sluices aback and the ditches deliver inland. Ninefold deep to the top of the dykes the galloping breakers stride, And their overcarried spray is a sea—a sea on the landward side. Coming, like stallions they paw with their hooves, going they snatch with their teeth, Till the bents and the furze and the sand are dragged out, and the old-time hurdles beneath. Bid men gather fuel for fire, the tar, the oil and the towFlame we shall need, not smoke, in the dark if the riddled sea-banks go. Bid the ringers watch in the tower (who knows how the dawn shall prove?) Each with his rope between his feet and the trembling bells Now we can only wait till the day, wait and apportion our shame. These are the dykes our fathers left, but we would not look to the same. Time and again were we warned of the dykes, time and again we delayed: Now, it may fall, we have slain our sons, as our fathers we have betrayed. Walking along the wreck of the dykes, watching the work of the seas! These were the dykes our fathers made to our great profit and ease. But the peace is gone and the profit is gone, with the old sure days withdrawn . That our own houses show as strange when we come back in the dawn! THE DECLARATION OF LONDON JUNE 29, 1911 ("On the re-assembling of Parliament after the Coronation, the Government have no intention of allowing their followers to vote according to their convictions on the Declaration of London, but insist on a strictly party vote."-Daily Papers.) WE E were all one heart and one race For a moment's breathing-space We had forgotten you. Now you return to your honoured place We have walked with the Ages dead- And you bid us pawn our honour for bread, And you cannot wait till our guests are sped, The light is still in our eyes And it does not match our mood, Our ears still carry the sound Exultant after our King was crowned, Wait till the memory goes, Wait till the visions fade, We may betray in time, God knows, When you make report to our scornful foes, THE WAGE-SLAVES 1902 OH GLORIOUS are the guarded heights Self-exiled from our gross delights- |