H
��John Stuart Thomson
Though they rallied around
Their torn flag ; with a shout, And a last mighty bound,
We had put them to rout.
There was champing of bits ;
There was slacking of rein ; We had taken the pits,
By our ride down the plain.
Over Moreuil to-night,
Four brave flags greet the stars :
Britain s red flag of fight ;
And the States Stars and Bars
Twine with Canada s Jack,
And the Tricolour true ; Lo ! Democracy s back,
Potsdam kings ! you are through !
HIS DARKEST HOUR
OW I have loved thee, Earth ! scenes that I leave,
Gardens of musing walled in laurel white ; Eve s bowers, whence the vesper-bird would grieve
In plaintive numbers for the waning light, And pour its swelling heart of love abroad ;
Soft winding valleys of deep, dewy grass, Grazed o er by sleek and slowly wandering kine ; Old roads with golden-rod
Lined festive, as though Orient Kings might pass;- Now all is lost the song, fruit, sun and wine!
The matin bird, that hurried his clear flute,
The swift unfolding glories of the day To praise, has now departed, or is mute ;
The feathery birches of the woodland way, Whose leaves, like to a thousand lamps of light,
Twinkled across the waning sun, are bare;
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