And man of woman born

Was gathered in as corn.

You promised honour and ordeal by flame.

You promised true. In joy we trembled lest

We should be found unworthy when it came;

But—oh—we never guessed

The fury of the test!

You promised friends and songs and festivals.

You promised true. Our friends, who still are young,

Assemble for their feasting in those halls

Where speaks no human tongue.

And thus our songs are sung.

THE CORNISHMAN

At sunset, when the high sea span

About the rocks a web of foam,

I saw the ghost of a Cornishman

Come home.

I saw the ghost of a Cornishman

Run from the weariness of war,

I heard him laughing as he ran

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