TO THE SHIRKER: A LAST APPEAL.
Now of your free choice, while the chance is yours
To share their glory who have gladly died
Shielding the honour of our island shores
And that fair heritage of starry pride,—
Now, ere another evening's shadow falls,
Come, for the trumpet calls.
What if to-morrow through the land there runs
This message for an everlasting stain?—
"England expected each of all her sons
To do his duty—but she looked in vain;
Now she demands, by order sharp and swift,
What should have been a gift."
For so it must be, if her manhood fail
To stand by England in her deadly need;
If still her wounds are but an idle tale
The word must issue which shall make you heed;
And they who left her passionate pleas unheard
Will have to hear that word.
And, losing your free choice, you also lose
Your right to rank, on Memory's shining scrolls,
With those, your comrades, who made haste to choose
The willing service asked of loyal souls;
From all who gave such tribute of the heart
Your name will stand apart.
I think you cannot know what meed of shame
Shall be their certain portion who pursue
Pleasure "as usual" while their country's claim
Is answered only by the gallant few.
Come, then, betimes, and on her altar lay
Your sacrifice to-day!
O. S.