And ripples that a child might brave
Creep softly past, and mock
Our grim black hulls that tamed the tides
And braved the tempest's shock.
Creep softly past, and mock
Our grim black hulls that tamed the tides
And braved the tempest's shock.
Fierce vultures of the sea we sailed
And ran our quarries down,
And dropped them to the silent caves
Where sleep the hordes who drown.
But now—weak, crippled, cabled things
Reft of our cruel might,
We curse at grating chains and yearn
For one more chance to fight.
And ran our quarries down,
And dropped them to the silent caves
Where sleep the hordes who drown.
But now—weak, crippled, cabled things
Reft of our cruel might,
We curse at grating chains and yearn
For one more chance to fight.
MARYS AT THE CROSS
(SEPTEMBER, 1917)
THE place where Mary-Mother knelt
Before the cross
Is worn with touch of many knees
Through all the crawling centuries
Of pain and grief and loss.
Before the cross
Is worn with touch of many knees
Through all the crawling centuries
Of pain and grief and loss.
Low bent, she lifted up her eyes,
All unafraid,
To that dear face grown white and cold,
And yet—we are not even told
That Mary prayed.
All unafraid,
To that dear face grown white and cold,
And yet—we are not even told
That Mary prayed.
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