BLUE as blossom of the myrtle Smiled the steadfast eyes of Olaf On the host of ships that harried His enraged, gold-glittering Drag… Snared within that ring of sea-bir…

SPINDRIFT white shall her vict… On the ivory quay, untrod By living feet, when she nears Gh… To point her out to God. The Babies Of The 'Lusitania’

LIFE is a trifle; Honor is all; Shoulder the rifle; Answer the call. ‘A nation of traders’!

I. In South Africa Over the lonesome African plain The stars look down, like eyes of… A bumping ride across gullies and… Now a grumble and now a jest,

HOPE of the Nations, lift thy st… Thyself art Sorrow, and to thee t… Of battle-anguish comes more pierc… Than even in those months of sneer… When thou so steadfastly didst bea…

[sung to tune: “All Saints New”] Our fathers, in the years grown di… A holy dwelling-place for Him, th… They wrought His house of faith a… A precious temple builded fair on…

‘MOTHER! Mother!’ he called as… In the horror there Of a bursting shell That strewed red flesh on the air. Far away over sea and land:

WHEN the Millennium comes Only the kings will fight, While the princes beat the drums, And the queens in aprons white, Arnica bottle in hand,

Across New England snows Flash visions from afar, Lithe gipsies on their toes Dancing to gay guitar; With gesture fierce, bizarre,

Bodies glad, erect, Beautiful with youth, Life’s elect, Nature’s truth, Marching host on host,

Not the Prussian, the forsworn, By whose fury overborne, Martyred Belgium, you lie Bruised with all injury. Through your peace red paths he cl…

OUR neighbor of the undefended bo… Friend of the hundred years of pea… Fellow adventurer on the enchanted… Of the New World, must not the pa… Our hearts for this wide anguish o…

WHILE we keep our Poet’s Tercen… Every school and city with its emu… Antic or solemnity, what tremulous Laughter on the air! O Puck peren… Leave us clumsy mortals to our dro…

Grim stones whose gray lips keep y… Our hands that touch you touch an… An ancient woe, colossal citadel Of some fierce faith, some heaven-… Rude-built, as if young Titans on…

THE fragrant air is full of down, Of floating, fleecy things From some forgotten fairy town Where all the folk wear wings. Or else the snowflakes, soft array…