And the soul 's astir and the brain 's afire
For the good fight fought before,
But the heart knows well there is something higher
Than the clamorous ways of war.
Faint on the ear grows the bugle call,
And we turn once more to the Best of All....
And the same spirit, the same tenderness, the same turning of his thoughts homewards to 'the best of all' are in the hitherto unpublished lines he sent to his mother for her birthday, on the 27th November 1903:
Comrades in distant climes,
King's folk and homefolk too,
Many possess my rhymes,
None so fitly as you,
Mother.
Steadfast were these and brave,
Sharers in stress and strife;
Fealty and love they gave,
You have given me life,
Mother.
The most charming of love songs are his two called 'Roses,' one from Pretoria, and one from Shanghai; and the spirit of his loyal comradeship glows in his lines, 'To the Others':
