From the old order breaking free,—

Our ruined world desires, you say,

Licence, once more, not Liberty.

But ah, beneath the struggling foam,

When storm and change are on the deep,

How quietly the tides come home,

And how the depths of sea-shine sleep;

And we who march towards a goal,

Destroying only to fulfil

The law, the law of that great soul

Which moves beneath your alien will;

12

12

We, that like foemen meet the past

Because we bring the future, know

We only fight to achieve at last

A great re-union with our foe;

Re-union in the truths that stand

When all our wars are rolled away;

Re-union of the heart and hand

 Prev. P 11/151 next