sweet and few, Are but the dwindling past he can recall Of what his childhood knew.

He counts not any more His brief, his present years. But O he knows How far apart the summers were of yore, How far apart the snows.

p. 10Therefore be satisfied; Long life is in your treasury ere you fall; Yes, and first love, like Dante’s. O a bride For ever mystical!

p. 10

Irrevocable good,— You dead, and now about, so young, to die,— Your childhood was; there Space, there Multitude, There dwelt Antiquity.

p. 11NURSE EDITH CAVELL

p. 11

Two o’clock, the morning of October 12th, 1915.

To her accustomed eyes The midnight-morning brought not such a dread As thrills the chance-awakened head that lies In trivial sleep on the habitual bed.

’Twas yet some hours ere light; And many, many, many a break of day Had she outwatched the dying; but this night Shortened her vigil was, briefer the way.

By dial of the clock ’Twas day in the dark above her lonely head. “This day thou shalt be with Me.” Ere the cock Announced that day she met the Immortal Dead.

p. 12SUMMER IN ENGLAND, 1914

p. 12

On London fell a clearer light; Caressing pencils of the sun Defined the distances, the white Houses transfigured one by one, The “long, unlovely street” impearled. O what a sky has walked the world!

Most happy year! And out of town The hay was prosperous, and the wheat; The silken harvest climbed the down;  Moon after moon was heavenly-sweet Stroking the bread within the sheaves, Looking twixt apples and their leaves.

And while this rose made round her cup, The armies died convulsed. And when This chaste young silver sun went up Softly, a thousand shattered men, One wet corruption, heaped the plain, After a league-long throb of pain.

Flower following tender flower; and birds, And berries; and benignant skies Made thrive the serried flocks and herds.—  Yonder are men shot through the eyes. Love, hide thy face From man’s unpardonable race.

p. 13* * * 

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