Then searchingly his deep blue eyes found mine, As if to plead against forgetfulness, With all the old-time loving kindliness: And then you led him back without one sign. Sweet little Mem'ry, lead him back once more, And, knocking, bring him in, and close the door.
The day is just beginning, But all the long night through, The sailor-men were watching Out in the dark night blue. Dear God! when my turn comes, May my watch be as true.
The long, still night is coming, But whilst I've been at play, The soldier-men were fighting Thro' all the live-long day. Dear God! when my turn comes, Please keep me brave as they.
One summer eve, my own dear love and I Sat arm-entwined beneath a rowan-tree. A little wind flew past us with a sigh, And all the velvet leaves waved merrily. Then, as mine eyes escaped his ardent glance, I saw a star peep o'er the purple hill And climb up to the topmost branch and dance, And wink at its reflection in the rill. "_Come, kiss me once, O timorous-hearted Love. Full many thousand kisses dost thou owe. Prithee but one, thy pretty love to prove; No one in all the world shall ever know._" No one? That spying star but told a poet, And in a song he let the whole world know it.
For the Mothers, Wives, and Sweethearts of the 15th West Yorks ("Leeds Pals")
'Tis passing wonderful that they, The little boys of yesterday, Should suddenly become such men That England rings with praise of them. But tho' their names are writ in blood --Deepening crimson flood on flood-- Their impositions writ awry And copybooks are hardly dry; And Sweetheart Life had scarcely kissed The boy to man, when the blue mist Of twilight lifted; and the dawn Announced that rosy day was born.
As pink-curled clouds lit up the sky A little gentle breeze whisked by Caressing all the poppy-heads-- Rippling fields of budding reds-- Splashes of yellow sunned the earth Where mustard meadows flowered mirth; And cornflowers blue ran out to meet The blue around God's Mercy-seat. O! all the world and all the sky Made it a sacrifice to die.
'Tis passing wonderful that they, The little boys of yesterday, Who cuddled to dear Mother-hearts With darling rosy-fingered arts, Did cheer with strong expectancy The shattering artillery; And smilingly went o'er the top Unflinchingly without a stop Into the poppied "No Man's Land." Wave after wave, band after band, Through the terror of bursting shells, Through the noise of a thousand hells, Through th' unmanning groans of pain, Through the blood of the splendid slain Lying under a blue-cupped sky, As wave after wave swept bravely by. From flowers of blue to the Endless Blue Hundreds of souls are passing thro', And the poppies weep o'er the red-spilled lives: O! at home are the mothers, the waiting wives.