Part 15

Owen Seaman

August 12, 1914

LINES WRITTEN IN SURREY, 1917

A sudden swirl of song in the bright sky-- The little lark adoring his lord the sun; Across the corn the lazy ripples run; Under the eaves, conferring drowsily,

Doves droop or amble; the agile waterfly Wrinkles the pool; and flowers, gay and dun, Rose, bluebell, rhododendron, one by one, The buccaneering bees prove busily.

Ah, who may trace this tranquil loveliness In verse felicitous?--no measure tells; But gazing on her bosom we can guess Why men strike hard for England in red hells, Falling on dreams, 'mid Death's extreme caress, Of English daisies dancing in English dells.

George Herbert Clarke

FRANCE

Because for once the sword broke in her hand, The words she spoke seemed perished for a space; All wrong was brazen, and in every land The tyrants walked abroad with naked face.

The waters turned to blood, as rose the Star Of evil Fate denying all release. The rulers smote, the feeble crying "War!" The usurers robbed, the naked crying "Peace!"

And her own feet were caught in nets of gold, And her own soul profaned by sects that squirm, And little men climbed her high seats and sold Her honour to the vulture and the worm.

And she seemed broken and they thought her dead, The Overmen, so brave against the weak. Has your last word of sophistry been said, O cult of slaves? Then it is hers to speak.

Clear the slow mists from her half-darkened eyes, As slow mists parted over Valmy fell, As once again her hands in high surprise Take hold upon the battlements of Hell.

Cecil Chesterton

THE NAME OF FRANCE

Give us a name to fill the mind With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- A name that tells of a splendid part In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight Of the human race to win its way From the feudal darkness into the day Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- A name like a star, a name of light-- I give you France!

Give us a name to stir the blood With a warmer glow and a swifter flood,-- A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear, And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, That calls three million men to their feet, Ready to march, and steady to meet The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- A name that rings like a battle-song. I give you France!

Give us a name to move the heart With the strength that noble griefs impart, A name that speaks of the blood outpoured To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- A name that calls on the world to share In the burden of sacrificial strife Where the cause at stake is the world's free life And the rule of the people everywhere,-- A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. I give you France!

Henry van Dyke

VIVE LA FRANCE!

Franceline rose in the dawning gray, And her heart would dance though she knelt to pray, For her man Michel had holiday, Fighting for France.

She offered her prayer by the cradle-side, And with baby palms folded in hers she cried: "If I have but one prayer, dear, crucified Christ--save France!

"But if I have two, then, by Mary's grace, Carry me safe to the meeting-place, Let me look once again on my dear love's face, Save him for France!"

She crooned to her boy: "Oh, how glad he'll be, Little three-months old, to set eyes on thee! For, 'Rather than gold, would I give,' wrote he, 'A son to France.'

"Come, now, be good, little stray sauterelle, For we're going by-by to thy papa Michel, But I'll not say where for fear thou wilt tell, Little pigeon of France!

"Six days' leave and a year between! But what would you have? In six days clean, Heaven was made," said Franceline, "Heaven and France."

She came to the town of the nameless name, To the marching troops in the street she came, And she held high her boy like a taper flame Burning for France.

Fresh from the trenches and gray with grime, Silent they march like a pantomime; "But what need of music? My heart beats time-- Vive la France!"