Fixed in the heaven of all sorrowing hearts;
And while thy great wound smarts
With hopes defeated and enslaved desires,
Behold the splendour of thy sacrifice!
Shame ploughs the earth for graves; but when this gloom
Of godlessness shall pass from the deep sky
Of man's disorder, and the battle-cry
Of hate die down—if memory of that shame
Can ever die—rather a memory crowned
With everlasting thorns and deathly spume—
What shall be scored upon the battle-ground
Of all humanity but that one name:
'BELGIUM!'
TO THE FRONT
"Captain Allen, who died m my arms, gave me this message: 'Tell the world, especially in Canada where my wife lives, that was not killed, but murdered. Also tell the Canadians throughout the Dommion to rally to the help of the boys at the front I was taken prisoner by the Germans, the enemy, being hustled dropped me me and deliberately shot me in the stomach. I ask you to tell this to all our people.'"
HAVE you seen at the Moving Pictures,
At the end of the reel,
The vanishing view of sweethearts
Impressing the seal
Of love on their hearts' profession,
Till only the kiss
Was left—et praeterea nihil. . . .?
Now listen to this:
Reverse it! Imagine the darkness,
Then a point of light
Which larger and brighter and rounder
Arouses the sight;
And the view you'll see is a soldier
With labouring breath
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