Katharine Lee Bates.

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ALVMNVS BOOK FYND




The Retinue

and other Poems



BY THE SAME AUTHOR



FAIRY GOLD

A dainty fairy play, fol-
lowed by a representative
collection of Miss Bates'
poems, including many
not previously printed.

Half Japan Vellum
$1.50 net

I. P. BUTTON & COMPANY
NEW YORK



THE RETINUE

AND OTHER POEMS



BY

KATHARINE LEE BATES




NEW YORK

E. P. DUTTON & CO.
681 FIFTH AVENUE

1918



COPYRIGHT 1918
BY E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY

All Rights Reserved



Printed in the United States of America



INSCRIBED
TO

OUR SOLDIERS OF FREEDOM



389450



SOLDIERS OF FREEDOM

They veiled their souls with laughter

And many a mocking pose,
These lads who follow after

Wherever Freedom goes;
These lads we used to censure

For levity and ease,
On Freedom's high adventure

Go shining overseas.

Our springing tears adore them,
These boys at school and play,

Fair-fortuned years before them,
Alas! but yesterday;

Divine with sudden splendor

Oh, how our eyes were blind!

In careless self-surrender

They battle for mankind.
vii



Soldiers of Freedom! Gleaming

And golden they depart,
Transfigured by the dreaming

Of boyhood's hidden heart.
Her lovers they confess them

And, rushing on her foes,
Toss her their youth God bless theml-

As lightly as a rose.



viii



CONTENTS

PAGE

SOLDIERS OF FREEDOM vii

THE RETINUE I

LYRICS OF THE WAR

1914

MARCHING FEET 7

FODDER FOR CANNON 9

To OUR PRESIDENT 10

1915

WILD EUROPE n

WHEN THE MILLENNIUM COMES ... 12

THE MORNING PAPER 14

THE CRY 15

THE HORSES 17

ONLY MULES 18

THE SUBMARINE THAT SANK THE "LUSITANIA" 20

THE BABIES OF THE "LUSITANIA" ... 20

OUR CROWN OF PRAISE 21

How LONG? . .22

1916

WHAT Is CHRIST? 27

CHILDREN OF THE WAR 29

THE LEAST OF THESE 30

MOTHER 31

ix



X CONTENTS

PAGE

MIST 3I

THE U-BOAT CREW 3 2

THE RED CROSS NURSE 33

To CANADA .35

THE CONQUEROR 37

1917

To PEACE 39

OUR PRESIDENT

THE NEW CRUSADE 4 1

SOLDIERS TO PACIFISTS 43

THE GERMAN-AMERICAN 45

NEW ROADS 4

THREE STEPS 4

His BIT . . 4*

WAR PROFITS

BABUSHKA 5

RUSSIA 5

OUT OF SIBERIA 53

To ITALY 55

JERUSALEM

OUR FIRST WAR-CHRISTMAS

To HEAVY HEARTS 59

THE PURPLE THREAD Jj 1

FREEDOM'S BATTLE- SONG 3

OVERSEAS

STARLIGHT AT SEA

WINGS ~*

MAN OVERBOARD ' l

THE LIGHTHOUSE 7*

THE "TITANIC"

THE THRACIAN STONE 74

APOLLO LAUGHS 77

SHAKESPEARE'S FESTIVAL 7



CONTENTS XI

PAGE

LYDD 79

THIS TATTERED CATECHISM 83

WHE*T CAP'N TOM COMES HOME .... 84

AT STONEHENGE 85

GEORGE MACDONALD 86

THE PRESENCE CHAMBER 87

SPAIN 88

MY LADY OF WHIMS 90

NORTHWARD 93

GRAVES AT CHRISTIANIA 93

THE DEATH OF OLAF TRYGGVISON ... 94



FROM SPRING TO SPRING

Nor YET 109

THE FIRST BLUEBIRDS in

IN THE OAK 112

THE END OF MAY . . .- . . .113

EAVESDROPPING 114

WAYWISE 115

IN A NORTHERN WOOD 116

THE CREED OF THE WOOD 117

OUR FIRST FAMILIES 118

THE PERFECT DAY 119

IN AUGUST 121

PLAYMATES 122

APRIL IN SEPTEMBER 124

A MOUNTAIN STORM 125

NIGHT AND MORNING 126

THE SUNSET, WOVEN OF SOFT LIGHTS . . . 127

WHITE MOMENTS 128

AROUND THE SUN 130

BEYOND 133

NEW YEAR 135

YELLOW WARBLERS 137



The war lyrics here collected were written,
with a single exception, in the years indicated,
and so record the gradual change, experienced
by many Americans, from consternation at
the horror of war itself to recognition of the
supreme issues involved.

Nearly all the poems in this volume are re-
printed from one or another of the following
periodicals, The American-Scandinavian Re-
view, The Art World, The Atlantic Monthly,
The Boston Transcript, The Century Maga-
zine, The Christian Endeavor World, The
Churchman, The Congregationalist, The De-
signer, The Forum, Good Housekeeping, The
Independent, Life, The Minaret, The New
York Sun, The New York Times, The New
York Tribune, The Outlook, Scribner's Maga-
zine, The Sonnet, Suburban Life, The Yale
Review, The Youth's Companion.



xii



The Retinue



THE RETINUE

ARCHDUKE FRANCIS FERDINAND, Austrian

Heir-Apparent,

Rideth through the Shadow Land, not a lone
1 knight errant,
But captain of a mighty train, millions upon

millions,
Armies of the battle-slain, hordes of dim

civilians ;

German ghosts who see their works with tor-
tured eyes, the sorry

Specters of scared tyrants, Turks hunted by
their quarry,

Liars, plotters red of hand, like waves of
poisonous gases

Sweeping through the Shadow Land the host
of horror passes ;



2 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Spirits bright as broken blades drawn for

truth and honor,
Sons of Belgium, pallid maids, martyrs who

have won her
Love eternal, bleeding breasts of the French

defiance,
Russians on enraptured quests, Freedom's

proud alliance.

Through that hollow hush of doom, vast, un-

visioned regions,
Led by Kitchener of Khartoum march the

English legions,
Kilt and shamrock, maple leaf, dreaming

Hindoo faces,
Brows of glory, eyes of grief, arms of lost

embraces ;

Like a moaning tide of woe, midst those pale

battalions
From the Danube and the Po, Arabs and

Australians,



THE RETINUE 3

Pours a ghastly multitude that breaks the

heart of pity,
Wreckage of some shell-bestrewed waste that

was a city;

Flocking from the murderous seas, from the
famished lowland,

From the blazing villages of Serbia and Po-
land,

Woman phantoms, baby wraiths, trampled by
war's blindness,

Horses, dogs, that put their faiths in human
lovingkindness.

Tamburlaine, Napoleon, envious Alexander

Peer in wonder at the wan, tragical com-
mander,

Archduke Francis Ferdinand when shall his
train be ended ?

Of all the lords of Shadow Land most royally
attended.



Lyrics of the War



Lyrics of the War

1914

MARCHING FEET

THESE August nights, hushed but for drowsy

peep

Of fledglings, tremble with a strange vibration,
A sound too far for hearing, sullen, dire,
Shaking the earth.

Even within the swaying veils of sleep
We are haunted by a horror, a mistrust,
A muffled perturbation,
Vaguely aware
Of prodigies in birth,
Of brooding thunders unbelievable,
Fierce forces that conspire
Against mankind.
We start awake;

7



8 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Our eyelids down, but still we feel the beat,

Dull, doomful, irretrievable,

Of Europe's marching feet,

Enchanted, blind,

By wizard music led

Over crushed blossoms, through the mocking

dust,

To baths of blood and fire.
Beyond the seas, in these hushed hills we dread
That hollow, rhythmic tread
Of nation against nation,
That ancient, bitter thrust
Of war against a world that might be fair
As any golden star that rides the air.
We cannot rest for marching feet that must
Harvest and home forsake,
Inexorably called to take
The road of desolation,
Trampling on hearts that break.
The purple glooms, all sweet
With dewy fragrance, bear



FODDER FOR CANNON

FODDER FOR CANNON

BODIES glad, erect,

Beautiful with youth,
Life's elect,

Nature's truth,
Marching host on host,

Those bright, unblemished ones,
Manhood's boast,

Feed them to the guns.

Hearts and brains that teem

With blessing for the race,
Thought and dream,

Vision, grace,
Oh, love's best and most,

Bridegrooms, brothers, sons,
Host on host

Feed them to the guns.



IO THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

TO OUR PRESIDENT

HOPE of the Nations, lift thy stricken heart.
Thyself art Sorrow, and to thee the cry
Of battle-anguish comes more piercingly
Than even in those months of sneer and smart,
When thou so steadfastly didst bear thy part,
True Champion of Peace. And now, when

high
The war-storm rages, when home's darlings

die

By mangled thousands, lift thy stricken heart
For a white shield of mercy, torch that throws
Its reconciling gleam across the seas.
O thou in love and grief pre-eminent,
Divine shall be thy comfort to appease
These bleeding Christian armies, sudden foes
That slaughter in a fierce astonishment.



WILD EUROPE II

I9I5

WILD EUROPE

WILD Europe, red with Woden's dreadful

dew,

On fire with Loki's hate, more savage than
Beasts that we shame by likening to man,
Was it toward this the toiling centuries grew ?

Was it for this the Reign of Love began
In that young heretic, that gracious Jew,
Whose race His followers flout the ages

through ?
Is Time at last a mere comedian,

Mocking in cap and bells our pompous boast
Of progress? Nay, we will not bear it so.
A million hands launch ships to succor woe ;
The stars that shudder o'er the slaughtering
host



12 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Rain blessing on the Red Cross groups that go
Careless of shrapnel, emulous for the post
Where foul diseases wreak their uttermost
Of horror. Saintship walks incognito

As scoffing Science, but Christ knows His

own.

Sway as it may, the wargod's fell caprice,
The victories of Love shall still increase
Until at last, from all this wail and moan,

Rises the song of brotherhood to cease

No more, no more, the song that shall atone

Even for this mad agony. The throne

That war is building is the throne of Peace.



WHEN THE MILLENNIUM COMES

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



WHEN THE MILLENNIUM COMES 13

Arnica bottle in hand,
Watch their Majesties throw,
With a gesture vague and grand,
Their crowns at the dodging foe,
Poor oH obsolete crowns
That Time hangs up in a row.

When the Millennium comes
And the proud steel navies meet,
While the furious boiler hums,
And the vengeful pistons beat,
The sailors will stay on shore
And cheer with a polyglot shout
The self-fed cannon that roar
Till metal has fought it out,
But the warm, glad bodies of boys
Are not for the waves to flout.

When the Millennium comes,
Love, the mother of life,
Will have worked out all the sums
Of our dim industrial strife,



14 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

And every man shall be lord

Of his deed and his dream, and the lore

Of war shall be abhorred

As a dragon-tale of yore,

Myth of the Iron Age,

A monster earth breeds no more.



THE MORNING PAPER

Carnage !

Humanity disgraced!
Time's dearest toil effaced!
Poison gases and flame
Putting Nero to shame!
Bayonet, bomb and shell !
Merry reading for hell!
The wickedness ! the waste !

Courage!

To gain their fiery goal,

Some crumbling, blood-soaked knoll,



THE CRY 15

How fearlessly they fling
Their flesh to suffering,
Offer their ardent breath
To gasping, shuddering death!
O miracle of soul!



THE CRY

MULTITUDINOUS the cry beating on the smoke-
veiled sky
Since the first war-wrath burst on immortal

Belgium,
Roar of cannon, shriek of shells, toll of

earthward-crashing bells,
Thunder of the bomb exploding, careless
where its tortures come.

Under all, the dreadful moan of the battle-
field, far-strown

With those cleft bodies left like a wreck of
broken spars.



16 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Oh, the Raphaels, Davids lost in that welter!

Oh, life's cost,

As a giant tread had crushed into dark a
sky of stars !

And for every dying throb of those millions,

women sob;
East or west, a mother's breast is the same

to cherish sons;
From the Ganges, Danube, Rhone, sorrow

wails her antiphone

To the doomful, mad torpedo, the colossal
slaughter-guns.

There's no silence left on earth for the dream

that brings to birth

Beauty, grace, no fair space .on this crim-
soned, tattered chart,
Not one walled and cloistered spot where on

every air come not

Groanings of a hurt creation, troubling all
the joy of art.



THE HORSES 17

But a hope has gone abroad, a hope that

crowns the sword;
Faces shine with divine courage for a gain

high-priced.
Peace shall be the prize of strife, death shall

yet deliver life,

That this cry may nevermore beat upon the
heart of Christ.

THE HORSES

"Thus far 80,000 horses have been shipped from
the United States to the European belligerents."

WHAT was our share in the sinning,

That we must share the doom?
Sweet was our life's beginning

In the spicy meadow-bloom,
With children's hands to pet us

And kindly tones to call.
To-day the red spurs fret us

Against the bayonet wall.

What had we done, our masters,
That you sold us into hell ?



l8 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Our terrors and disasters

Have filled your pockets well.

You feast on our starvation ;
Your laughter is our groan.

Have horses then no nation,
No country of their own?

What are we, we your horses,

So loyal where we serve,
Fashioned of noble forces

All sensitive with nerve?
Torn, agonized, we wallow

On the blood-bemired sod;
And still the shiploads follow.

Have horses then no God ?



ONLY MULES

"The submarine was quite within its rights in
sinking the cargo of the Armenian, 1,422 mules
valued at $191,400."

No matter; we are only mules
And slow to understand



ONLY MULES 1Q

We drown according to the rules
Of war, we contraband

War reckons us as shot and shell,

As so much metal lost.
And mourns the dollars gone to swell

The monstrous bill of cost.

Would that we had been wrought of steel

And not of quivering flesh !
Of iron, not of nerves that feel,

And maddened limbs that thresh

The sucking seas in stubborn strife

For that dim right of ours
To what no factory fashions, life,

No Edison endowers.

Our last wild screams are choked; you
know

It does not matter, for
We're only mules that suffered so,

And contraband of war.



2O THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

THE SUBMARINE THAT SANK THE
"LUSITANIA"

SPINDRIFT white shall her victims stand

On the ivory quay, untrod
By living feet, when she nears Ghoststrand,

To point her out to God.

THE BABIES OF THE "LUSITANIA"

THOSE rosy, dimpled darlings cast

So roughly to the sea,
Wondering their bathtub was so vast,

Reaching for breast and knee,

Too innocent to understand
What hate and murder are,

But puzzled that the dandling hand
Had let them drop so far,

Swallowing like milk the bitter foam,
Dismayed to miss their breath,



OUR CROWN OF PRAISE 21

Our little guests from Heaven went home
In the great arms of Death.

O Land of Toys and Christmas Trees,

Dear Land of Fairy Tales,
How will your heart be panged for these

When war's red frenzy pales !
God pity Germany in au

The grieving years to be
When through her cradle-songs shall call

Drowned babies from the sea.

OUR CROWN OF PRAISE

A PRAISE beyond all other praise of ours
This nation holds in jealous trust for him
Who may approve himself, even in these dim,
Swift days of destiny, the soul that towers
Above the turmoil of contending powers,
A beacon firm, while seas of fury brim
The world's long-labored fields and vineyards

trim,
Remembering forests and unconscious flowers.



22 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Our nation longs for such a living light,
Kindred to stars and their eternal dreams,
A steadfast glow whatever breakers roll,
Cleaving confusions of the stormy night
With gracious lusters and revealing gleams,
Longs for the shining of a Lincoln soul.



HOW LONG?

How long, O Prince of Peace, how long? We
sicken of the shame

Of this wild war that wraps the world, a roar-
ing dragon-flame

Fed on earth's glorious youth, high hearts all
passionate to cope

O Chivalry of Hope!

With the cloudy host of the infidel and the
Holy Earth reclaim.

For each dear land is Holy Land to her own
fervent sons



HOW LONG? 23

Who fling in loyal sacrifice their lives before
the guns,

But when they meet their foes above the battle-
smoke, they laugh,

And all together quaff

The cup of welcome Honor pours for her slain
champions.

Oh, if a thousandth part of all this treasure,

purpose, skill,
Were poured into the crucible transforming

wrong and ill,
By the white magic of a wise and generous

brotherhood,

To righteousness and good,
The world would be divine again, with every

war-cry still.

Poor world so worn with wickedness, be-

dimmed with rage and fear,
Sad world that sprang forth singing from

God's hand, a golden sphere,



24 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

O yet may Love's creative breath renew thee,

fashioned twice

A shining Paradise,
Unsullied in the astral choir, with Joy for

charioteer.

How long shall bomb and bullet think for
human brains? How long

Shall folk of the burned villages in starving,
staggering throng

Flee from the armies that, in turn, are
mangled, maddened, slain,

Till earth is all one stain

Of horror, and the soaring larks are slaugh-
tered in their song?

Oh, may this war, this blasphemy that blots

the globe with blood,
Slay war forever, cleanse the earth in its own

mighty flood
Of tears, tears unassuageable, that will not

cease to fall



HOW LONG? 25

Till Time has covered all
Our guilty century with sleep, and the new
eras bud!

How long? The angels of the stars entreat

the clouded Throne
In anguish for their brother Earth, who

stands, like Cain, alone,
And hides the mark upon his brow, the while

their harps implore

The Silence to restore
Peace to this wayward Son of God, whose

music is a moan.

Come swiftly, Peace ! Oh, swiftly come, with
healing in thy feet ;

Bring back to tortured battlefields the waving
of the wheat ;

Bring back to broken hearths, whereby the
wistful ghosts will walk,

Blithe hum of household talk,

Till childhood dare to sport again and maiden-
hood be sweet.



26 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Though thou must come by crimson road, with

grief and mercy come,
Not with the insolence of strength, the boast

of fife and drum ;
Come with adventure in thine eyes for the

splendid tasks that wait,

To weld these desolate
Crushed lands into the fellowship of thy

millennium.

O Peace, to rear thy temple that no strife may

overawe !
O Purity, to fashion thee a palace without

flaw!
O Love, the radiant heresy of a youth in

Galilee,

To build the state on thee,
And shape the deeds of nations by thy yet

untested law!



WHAT IS CHRIST? 27



WHAT IS CHRIST?



OH, what is Christ, that we should call on

Him?

Wasted Armenia, in her utter woe,
Dies in the mocking desert, calling so.
Hyaenas tear her children limb from limb.
The clouds, soft dimpled once with cherubim,
Now screen the flight of Lucifers that strow
Their fiery seed where clustered households

know

'Twixt sleep and death one flaring interim
Of agony, brief as the broken prayer.
What prayer? What Christ? Himself He

could not save.
From first to last, when hath He saved His

own?
Stephen's young body, battered stone by stone,



28 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Edith Cavell in her most holy grave,

For His helpless host of martyrs witness bear.



II

Thought casts the challenge. Faith must lift

the glove.

Most true it is Christ doth not save the flesh.
God's dreamy Nazarene, caught in the mesh
Of ignorance and malice, whitest dove
Net ever snared, took little care thereof.
Not His to plead with Pilate, nor to thresh
Those priestly lies. He died, to live afresh
Spirit, not body ; not the Jew, but Love.
Love, the one Light in which all lusters meet,
Ultimate miracle, far goal of Time !
Even to-day, when all seems lost, they feel,
Those nations that like hooded sorrows kneel,
Their prayer's deep answer, loathing war as

crime,
Longing to gather at Love's wounded feet.



CHILDREN OF THE WAR 29

CHILDREN OF THE WAR
SHRUNKEN little bodies, pallid baby faces,
Eyes of staring terror, innocence defiled,
Tiny bones that strew the sand of silent places,
This upon our own star where Jesus was
a child.

Broken buds of April, is there any garden
Where they yet may blossom, comforted of

sun,
While their sad Creator bows to ask their

pardon
For the life He gave them, life and death

in one?
Spared by steel and hunger, still shall horror

blazon
Those white and tender spirits with anguish

unf orgot ;
Half a century hence the haggard look shall

gaze on

The outrage of a mother, shall see a grand-
sire shot.



3O THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Man who wings the azure, lassoes the hoof-

sparkling,
Fire-maned steeds of glory and binds them

to his car,
Cannot man whose searchlight leaves no

horizon darkling

Safeguard little children upon our golden
star?

THE LEAST OF THESE

THE wolf of want is howling

At doors no angel keeps.
Young Mary smiled on her Holy Child,

But many a mother weeps.

The Kings of the East brought treasures

Uncounted and unpriced.
Who bears a gift to arms that lift

A little famished Christ?



MOTHER 31

MOTHER

"MOTHER! Mother!" he called as he fell
In the horror there
Of a bursting shell
That strewed red flesh on the air.

Far away over sea and land
The knitting dropt
From an old white hand,
And a heart for an instant stopt.

But it was Death, dark mother and wise,

All-tenderest,

Who kissed his eyes

And gathered him to her breast.

MIST

ON the mountain side they fashion,
Those rifting shreds of storm,
A figure of strange passion,
A winged and sworded form.



32 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Majestic, wild, colossal,
With angry arm thrown high;
Those swaying shoulders jostle
The glory from the sky.

Then flows the happy hour.
That tyrant of the mist
Turns to a wavering tower
And melts in amethyst,

Foretelling thus the cycle
O speed it, Holy Dove !
When the Archangel Michael
Shall vanish into L/ove.



THE U-BOAT CREW

ALAS, alas for those blond boys who stalk
Their prey in ambush of the shuddering
seas,

Whiling the wait with merry, tender talk
Of some dear knot of flower- clad cottages



THE RED CROSS NURSE 33

Beyond the Rhine ! The merchantship draws

on;
Their swift torpedo strikes its mark; the

sea

Moans with the dying; for a victory won
They thank the pagan god of Germany.

Happier to die the hideous, smothering death,
Too deep for mercy, in their own snared
trap,

Than live to learn how time interpreteth
The cause they served ; the tragical mishap

Of pride that pledged The Day and brought

The Night;
Than live to loathe their Fatherland, a

name

So high, so fallen, that betrayed their bright
Young loyalty to savageries of shame.

THE RED CROSS NURSE

ONE summer day, gleaming in memory,
We drove, my Joy and I,



34 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Through fragrant hawthorn lanes

Gold- fringed with wisps of rye

Brushed off the harvest wains,

From that old, gladsome town of Shrewsbury,

Throned on twin hills and girdled by a loop

Of the brown Severn, out to Battlefield.

Henry the Fourth with his usurping sword

Smote here the haughty Percies,

And after builded here, as due to Him

Who made rebellion stoop

And lesser traitors to chief traitor yield,

A church. Decayed, restored,

Its centuries afford

To stranger eyes, enshadowed by the view

Of that ridged burial plain from which it grew,

No sight more sacred than a crude

Image of visage dim,

Hewn by some ancient tool from forest wood,

Our Lady of the Mercies.

Even so long ago amid the slaughter,
Hushed now beneath its coverlet of flowers,



TO CANADA 35

Groped this imperfect dream

Of Pity, pure, divine.

Madonna, look to-day upon thy daughter

And know her by the crimson cross, the sign

Of love that shall at last, at last redeem

This war-torn world of ours.

TO CANADA

OUR neighbor of the undefended bound,
Friend of the hundred years of peace, our kin,
Fellow adventurer on the enchanted ground
Of the New World, must not the pain within
Our hearts for this wide anguish of the war
Be keenest for your pain? Is not our grief,
That aches with all 1 bereavement, tenderest for
The tragic crimson on your maple-leaf?

Bitter our lot, in this world-clash of faiths,
To stand aloof and bide our hour to serve ;
The glorious dead are living; we are wraiths,
Dim watchers of the conflict's changing curve,



36 THE RETINUE AND OTHER POEMS

Yet proud for human valor, spirit true
In scorn of body, manhood on the crest
Of consecration, dearly proud for you,
Who sped to arms like knighthood to the
Quest.

From quaint Quebec to stately Montreal,
Along the rich St. Lawrence, o'er the steep
Roofs of the Rockies rang the bugle-call,
And east and west, deep answering to deep,
Your sons surged forth, the simple, stooping

folk

Of shop and wheatfield sprung to hero size
Swiftly as e'er your Northern Lights awoke
To streaming splendor quiet evening skies.

Seek not your lost beneath the tortured sod
Of France and Flanders, where in desperate

strife

They battled greatly for the cause of God;
But when above the snow your heavens are

rife



THE CONQUEROR 37

With those upleaping lusters, find them there,
Ardors of sacrifice, celestial sign,


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Online LibraryKatharine Lee BatesThe retinue, and other poems → online text (page 1 of 4)