I have made my stand at last
Where the thickest foes are found;
I shall fall as I have fought,
Yielding inch by inch the ground.
I have no surrender given,
I have measured hate with hate;
I have never stooped to call,
“Quarter!” to victorious Fate.
When sore pressed I have not sought
Aid from comrades in the field;
I have never turned to find
Succour from a friendly shield.
This shall be my guerdon gained,
When the hounds of war are passed:
“Peace to him who fought alone,
And who fell alone at last.”
FAME
In life he lived among them and they cast
Him stones for bread.
He that was mightiest of them all had not
Whereon to lay his head.
In death, where flaming poppies fired the dust,
They brought a laurel wreath:
Honour to ashes on the coffin lid!
Fame to the skull beneath!
RESURRECTION
The trumpet of the Judgment shook the night,
Dust quickened and was flesh; grave-clothes were shed;
With moaning of strong travail and lament,
The sea gave up her dead.
One, rising from a rotting tomb, beheld
The heavens unfold beneath Jehovah’s breath.
“Great God!” he cried, “with Thine eternity,
Couldst Thou not leave me Death?”