The last time that Peter denied his Lord,

The Father took from him the Keys and the Sword,
And the Mother and Babe brake his Kingdom in two,
When the cock crew-when the cock crew-
(Because of his wickedness) when the cock crew!

THE QUESTION

1916

BRETHREN, how shall it fare with me

When the war is laid aside,

If it be proven that I am he
For whom a world has died?

If it be proven that all my good,
And the greater good I will make,
Were purchased me by a multitude
Who suffered for my sake?

That I was delivered by mere mankind
Vowed to one sacrifice,

And not, as I hold them, battle-blind,
But dying with open eyes?

That they did not ask me to draw the sword
When they stood to endure their lot—
That they only looked to me for a word,
And I answered I knew them not?

If it be found, when the battle clears,
Their death has set me free,

Then how shall I live with myself through the years
Which they have bought for me?

Brethren, how must it fare with me,
Or how am I justified,
If it be proven that I am he

For whom mankind has died-
If it be proven that I am he
Who, being questioned, denied?

RECESSIONAL

1897

GOD of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle-line, Beneath whose awful Hand we hold Dominion over palm and pineLord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget-lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away;

On dune and headland sinks the fire:

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,

Or lesser breeds without the Law-
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget-lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word-
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!

"FOR ALL WE HAVE AND ARE"

1914

FOR all we have and are,

For all our children's fate,
Stand up and take the war.
The Hun is at the gate!
Our world has passed away
In wantonness o'erthrown.
There is nothing left to-day
But steel and fire and stone!

Though all we knew depart,
The old Commandments stand:-
"In courage keep your heart,
In strength lift up your hand."

Once more we hear the word
That sickened earth of old:-
"No law except the Sword
Unsheathed and uncontrolled."

Once more it knits mankind,
Once more the nations go
To meet and break and bind
A crazed and driven foe.

Comfort, content, delight,
The ages' slow-bought gain,
They shrivelled in a night.
Only ourselves remain
To face the naked days
In silent fortitude,
Through perils and dismays
Renewed and re-renewed.

Though all we made depart,
The old Commandments stand:-
"In patience keep your heart,
In strength lift up your hand."

No easy hope or lies

Shall bring us to our goal,

But iron sacrifice

Of body, will, and soul.

There is but one task for all

One life for each to give.

What stands if Freedom fall?

Who dies if England live?

THE THREE-DECKER

1894

"The three-volume novel is extinct."

FULL thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail.

It cost a watch to steer her, and a week to shorten sail; But, spite all modern notions, I've found her first and best— The only certain packet for the Islands of the Blest.

Fair held the breeze behind us-'twas warm with lovers'

prayers.

We'd stolen wills for ballast and a crew of missing heirs. They shipped as Able Bastards till the Wicked Nurse confessed,

And they worked the old three-decker to the Islands of the Blest.

By ways no gaze could follow, a course unspoiled of cook,
Per Fancy, fleetest in man, our titled berths we took
With maids of matchless beauty and parentage unguessed,
And a Church of England parson for the Islands of the Blest.

We asked no social questions-we pumped no hidden shame―
We never talked obstetrics when the Little Stranger came:
We left the Lord in Heaven, we left the fiends in Hell.
We weren't exactly Yussufs, but-Zuleika didn't tell.

No moral doubt assailed us, so when the port we neared,
The villain had his flogging at the gangway, and we cheered.
'Twas fiddle in the foc's'le-'twas garlands on the mast,
For every one got married, and I went ashore at last.

I left 'em all in couples akissing on the decks.

I left the lovers loving and the parents signing cheques.
In endless English comfort, by county-folk caressed,

I left the old three-decker at the Islands of the Blest! ...

That route is barred to steamers: you'll never lift again
Our purple-painted headlands or the lordly keeps of Spain.
They're just beyond your skyline, howe'er so far you cruise
In a ram-you-damn-you liner with a brace of bucking screws.
Swing round your aching search-light-'twill show no haven's

peace.

Ay, blow your shrieking sirens at the deaf, grey-bearded seas! Boom out the dripping oil-bags to skin the deep's unrestAnd you aren't one knot the nearer to the Islands of the Blest!