than a doctor.” May roses bloom for you, and may you find Your richest harvest in a tranquil mind.
The Red Flower
June, 1914
In the pleasant time of Pentecost, By the little river Kyll, I followed the angler’s winding path Or waded the stream at will, And the friendly fertile German land Lay round me green and still.
But all day long on the eastern bank Of the river cool and clear, Where the curving track of the double rails Was hardly seen though near, The endless trains of German troops Went rolling down to Trier.
They packed the windows with bullet heads And caps of hodden gray; They laughed and sang and shouted loud When the trains were brought to a stay; They waved their hands and sang again As they went on their iron way.
No shadow fell on the smiling land, No cloud arose in the sky; I could hear the river’s quiet tune When the trains had rattled by; But my heart sank low with a heavy sense Of trouble—I knew not why.
Then came I into a certain field Where the devil’s paint-brush spread ‘Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills A flaring splotch of red— An evil omen, a bloody sign, And a token of many dead.
I saw in a vision the field-gray horde Break forth at the devil’s hour, And trample the earth into crimson mud In the rage of the Will to Power— All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, At the sign of the blood-red flower.
A Scrap of Paper
Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?
Question of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 5, 1914
A mocking question! Britain’s answer came Swift as the light and searching as the flame.
“Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight Till our last breath, and God defend the right!
“A scrap of paper where a name is set Is strong as duty’s pledge and honor’s debt.
“A scrap of paper holds for man and wife The sacrament of love, the bond of life.
“A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ With God’s eternal word to hallow it.
“A scrap of paper binds us both to stand Defenders of a neutral neighbor land.
“By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight To keep our name upon that paper white.”
Stand Fast
Stand fast, Great Britain! Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand One in the faith that makes a mighty land— True to the bond you gave and will not break And fearless in the fight for conscience’ sake! Against the Giant Robber clad in steel, With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, Striding through France to strike you down at last, Britain, stand fast!
Stand fast, brave land! The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword They wield and worship is their only Lord. O land where reason stands secure on right, O land where freedom is the source of light, Against the mailed Barbarians’ deadly blast, Britain, stand fast!
Stand fast, dear land! Thou island mother of a world-wide race, Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; Fight bravely on, until the word of peace Is spoken in the English tongue at last— Britain, stand fast!
Lights Out
(1915)
“Lights out” along the land, “Lights out” upon the sea. The night must put her hiding hand O’er peaceful towns where children sleep, And peaceful ships that darkly creep Across the waves, as if they were not free.
The dragons of the air, The hell-hounds of the deep, Lurking and prowling everywhere, Go forth to seek their helpless prey, Not knowing whom they maim or slay— Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap.
Out with the tranquil lights, Out with the lights that burn For love and law and human rights! Set back the clock a thousand years: All they have gained now disappears, And the dark ages suddenly return.
Kaiser, who loosed wild death, And terror in the night, God grant you draw no quiet breath, Until the madness you began Is ended, and long-suffering man, Set free from war lords, cries, “Let there be Light.”
Remarks About Kings
God said I am tired of kings.
Emerson
God said, “I am tired of kings,”— But that was a long while ago! And meantime man said, “No— I like their looks in their robes and rings.” So he crowned a few more, And they went on playing the game as before, Fighting and spoiling things.
Man said, “I am tired of kings! Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, They make me pay for their lust and their war; I am the puppet, they pull the strings; The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. I will govern myself for awhile I think, And see what that brings!”
Then God, who made the first remark, Smiled in the dark.
Might and Right
If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts’ cage; If Right made Might, this were the golden age; But now, until we win the long campaign, Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign.
The Price of Peace
Peace without Justice is a low estate— A coward cringing to an iron Fate! But Peace through Justice is the great ideal— We’ll pay the price of war to make it real.
Storm-Music
O Music hast thou only heard The laughing river, the singing bird, The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees— Nothing but Nature’s melodies? Nay, thou hearest all her tones, As a Queen must hear! Sounds of wrath and fear, Mutterings, shouts, and moans, Madness, tumult, and despair— All she has that shakes the air With voices fierce and wild! Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child— Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign Triumphant in a world of storm and strain!
Echo the long-drawn sighs Of the mounting wind in the pines; And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise In the dark of the troubled deep To
