274 ALBERTA VICKRIDGE
��THE CONSCRIPT
Then former stars were faint and signs were fled. Dawn flamed and sleepers roused : you saw men's
souls Crowned of that fire with terrible aureoles. You saw — and hid your head, and hid your head. What of you, O unwilling, shall be said ? England, Beloved, Say that Pain crowned even mine with all men's souls.
Joyous as guest unto the rose-heaped board, Dreamful as lover to his dreams' desire, Steadfast as martyr to the pitiless fire. My sons, yet not to any task abhorred, But to love's service, went with one accord. No less, Beloved, My heart perforce shall kindle at thy fire.
Toiled in my vineyard since the early sun.
Toiled through the drouth, the ardent heat of
noon, These, my true laborers. Say, who earns my
boon.
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