(For the Grave of Coleridge-Taylor)

SLEEP, crowned with fame; fearless of change or time. Sleep, like remembered music in the soul, Silent, immortal; while our discords climb To that great chord which shall resolve the whole. Silent with Mozart on that solemn shore; Secure where neither waves nor hearts can break; Sleep—till the Master of the World, once more, Touch the remembered strings, and bid thee wake.... Touch the remembered strings, and bid thee wake.

VALUES

THE moon that sways the rhythmic seas, The wheeling earth, the marching sky,— I ask not whence the order came That moves them all as one. These are your chariots. Nor shall these Appal me with immensity; I know they carry one heart of flame More precious than the sun.

THE HEROIC DEAD

(On the loss of the Titanic)

IF in the noon they doubted, in the night They never swerved. Death had no power to appal. There was one Way, one Truth, one Life, one Light, One Love that shone triumphant over all. If in the noon they doubted, at the last There was no Way to part, no Way but One That rolled the waves of Nature back and cast In ancient days a shadow across the sun. If in the noon they doubted, their last breath Saluted once again the eternal goal, Chanted a love-song in the face of Death And rent the veil of darkness from the soul. If in the noon they doubted, in the night They waved the shadowy world of strife aside, Flooded high heaven with an immortal light, And taught the deep how its Creator died.