Major Charles G. D. Roberts How must them burn to have endured
The acclaim of these whose fame unclean Reeks from the LusitaniaV slain,
Stinks from the orgies of Malines.
But surely, too, thou art consoled
(Who knew st thy stalwart breed so well)
To see us rise from sloth, and go,
Plain and unbragging, through this hell.
And surely, too, thou art assured.
Hark how that grim and gathering beat Draws upwards from the ends of earth,-
The tramp, tramp of thy kinsmen s feet.
��T
��MEADOW REST
>HE green marsh-mellows
Are over him. Along the shallows The pale lights swim.
��Wide air, washed grasses, And waveless stream ;
And over him passes The drift of dream;
The pearl-hue down Of the poplar seed;
The elm-flower brown ;
And the sway of the reed;
The blue moth, winged With a flake of sky;
The bee, gold ringed ; And the dragon fly.
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