barracks in the intervals between parades.' There is less of the martial strain in his verse, perhaps, than in that of any other poet-soldier of the British overseas dominions, but not less of the patriotic and humanitarian ardour that drew us and our scattered kindred together into the great struggle. His attitude towards war is essentially the modern attitude:
God! It is inconceivable that man,
Made in Thine image, should thus desecrate
The Temple Thou hast built,
is the recurring burden of his series of war sonnets. Looking on the sleepy hills and the peace of the wide landscape, he feels
It is incredible that this should be
Ploughed by the lethal weapons of the Hun:
Sown with the bodies of the sons of men—
The sons of England—and that Liberty
Is still so ill-defined by thinkers' pen
That it must yet be bought by battles won!
We could not sacrifice honour and rest in peace, is his cry, but he has faith in the conception of a larger Patriotism when the nations shall be one brotherhood:
