JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS
1914 1916
What hast thou done, O womanhood of France,
Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife,
What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife,
To prove the pride of thine inheritance.
In this fair land of freedom and romance?
I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,—
Smiling against the swords that seek thy life—
Make answer in a noble utterance:
"I give France all I have, and all she asks.
Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take;
My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,—
My feet to run her errands through the dark,—
My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,—
And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!"
April 16, 1916.
INTERLUDES IN HOLLAND
THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND
The heavenly hills of Holland,—
How wondrously they rise
Above the smooth green pastures
Into the azure skies!
With blue and purple hollows,
With peaks of dazzling snow,
Along the far horizon
The clouds are marching slow,
No mortal fool has trodden
The summits of that range,
Nor walked those mystic valleys
Whose colors ever change;
Yet we possess their beauty,
And visit them in dreams,
While the ruddy gold of sunset
From cliff and canyon gleams.
In days of cloudless weather
They melt into the light;
When fog and mist surround us
They're hidden from our sight;
But when returns a season
Clear shining after rain,
While the northwest wind is blowing,
We see the hills again.
The old Dutch painters loved them,
Their pictures show them clear,—
Old Hobbema and Ruysduel,
Van Goyen and Vermeer,
Above the level landscape,
Rich polders, long-armed mills,
Canals and ancient cities,—
Float Holland's heavenly hills.
The Hague, November, 1916.