Envy deny'd thee what thy spirit sought,
And held thee from the battle-seething plain;
Yet thy proud blood in filial bodies fought,
And poppies blossom o'er thy QUENTIN slain.
'Twas thine to see the triumph of thy cause;
Thy grateful eyes beheld a world redeem'd;
Would that thy wisdom might have shap'd the laws
Of the new age, and led to heights undream'd!
Yet art thou gone? Will not thy presence cling
Like that of all the great who liv'd before?
Will not new wonders of thy fashioning
Rise from thy words, as potent as of yore?
Absent in flesh, thou with a brighter flame
Shin'st as the beacon of the brave and free;
Thou art our country's soul—our loftiest aim
Is but to honour and to follow thee!
H. P. LOVECRAFT.
January 13, 1919.