Of all things foul and black. My heart is hot
Within me as I view it, and I cry,
"Better the misery of these men's lot
Than all the peace that comes to such as I!"
And strange that in the pauses of the sound
I hear the children's laughter as they roam,
And then their mother calls, and all around
Rise up the gentle murmurs of a home.
But still I gaze afar, and at the sight
My whole soul softens to its heartfelt prayer,
"Spirit of Justice, Thou for whom they fight,
Ah, turn, in mercy, to our lads out there!
"The froward peoples have deserved Thy wrath,
And on them is the Judgment as of old.
But if they wandered from the hallowed path,
Yet is their retribution manifold.
Behold all Europe writhing on the rack,
The sins of fathers grinding down the sons,
How long, O Lord!" He sends no answer back,
But still I hear the mutter of the guns.
A LOST LAND
(To Germany)
[Reprinted by permission of the Proprietors of Punch.]
A CHILDHOOD land of mountain ways,
Where earthly gnomes and forest fays,
Kind foolish giants, gentle bears
Sport with the peasant as he fares
Affrighted through the forest glades,
And lead sweet wistful little maids
Lost in the woods, forlorn, alone,
To princely lovers and a throne.
*****
Dear haunted land of gorge and glen,
Ah me! the dreams, the dreams of men!
