glorious history of no avail;Whilst all the Earth shall know you were not great.
Not arms, nor weapons forged, nor serried forces,
Nor stout Allies nor multiplied resources
The victory giveth;
Not ships afar, nor numbers gradual tale,
Nor all your might, oh Britain! shall avail:
Only the Spirit liveth!
Yet this our hope (a hope unsaid),
And still our faith (though faith be dead),
That, as of old, you may awake,
Cast off your senile mood, and shake
Irresolution to the wall;
Bid equal sacrifice from all;
That each surrender to the state
A measured offering to fate,
Till Unity of Will, controlled
Shines through the nation, manifold:
Then should your Spirit conquer as before,
And Phœnix-like you should renew your youth and strength once more.
Return
From exile and disaster,
From banishment set free,
We shall return in sorrow,
Our homes once more to see.
The storm will surely finish,
The day must dawn at last,
The floods at length diminish,
The bitterness be past.
From Fatherland long-banished
(Oh, church in ruins low!
Oh, roofs and chimneys vanished!)
'Tis to our homes we go!
The land is torn asunder,
The orchard trees are bare;
A muttering of thunder
Still shakes the heavy air.
Yet life goes on undaunted:
With aching hearts, and sore,
To raise our hearths and altars
We shall return once more.
Nietzsche
In the silence of the night-time
Startled, we can hear a murmur
As of someone tapping, tapping,
Tapping at the breasts of idols
With an auscultating hammer,
Sounding all their hollow vitals
As they helplessly endeavour
To evade with vain pretences
Or atone:
Yes, we hear the distant thunder
Of an earthquake that convulses;
Poor old Mother Earth is shaken,
Sorely tried and whirled asunder,
Shaken by a fierce invader;
Where grim and slow you creep below,
Digging, digging, digging deep,
Troglodyte, untiring miner
All alone!
As you climb upon the mountains,
Glaciers, icy precipices,
Toward the lonely lightning-blasted
Peak that towers above in silence,
Plunging into deep crevasses
Where the frozen water falls:
Monotone:
And at last we wake from nightmare —
Wake, to find ourselves denuded
Naked, lonesome, 'mid our fellows
Lacking father, wife, or mother,
Lacking neighbour, child or brother:
All disown.
Still our eyes are fixed steadfastly
Where you soar above the heavens,
Spurning with your mighty pinions
Countless deities and angels,
Shattering our fondest visions
With your own:
Ever on your knees you creep,
Where the way is wild and steep.
Digging, digging, digging deep,
Whilst the priests and idols weep.
Sacrament
Beloved mine! we cannot falter now;
No threats avail, no claims affect this hour;
That kiss, far more than sacerdotal vow
Or golden circlet, making truly one
– More solemn than any oath —
Hath passed our lips:
Whilst Love, the great compeller, the mighty power
In his bewildering hand, hath seized us both.
No pardon comes for those who wrongly read
The books on stone engraved —
Our Primal Laws —
Or fail to satisfy the unchanging Cause;
Who reach this height, and fail, are dead indeed:
Their being void, their souls are cast without;
And from the Book their names are blotted out.
There is no holding back, no base endeavour,
The cup of true communion is filled,
The sacrament prepared as we have willed;
Hand joined to hand in clasp that none can sever;
Our quittance sure, our resolution taken,
With vows fulfilled we face the world unshaken;
And each to each we pledge ourselves for ever.
Fightin' Tomlinson
I sit by the chimbley corner,
My blood is runnin' slow,
My hands is white as a printed paage,
Wot once wor red wi' the fighter's waage;
They're withered an' wrinkled now wi' old aage;
An' the fire's burnin' low.
Once I could lether anyone
An' strike a knock-down blow:
My legs were limmack as a young bough,
They could race or dance or foller the plough;
But they're crookled and wemblin' all waays now,
An' the fire's burnin' low.
I 'member me of owden daays:
At Metheringham Show:
I fought young Jolland for a scarf,
I nearly brok his back in half;
He galloped hooam to Blankney Barff
As hard as he could go.
I fought an' danced an' carried on,
Razzlin 'igh an low;
I
