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As the blood of the martyr enfruitens his creed, so the hero sows peace
And the reaping of war’s deadly harvest is the earnest his havoc shall cease.
The extraordinary imagery of the last line of the first stanza (couplet)—‘the shout of the savage their requiem, the hiss of the rifle their knell’ and the novel beauty of the similitude in the first line of the second stanza are enough to raise these verses to the dignity of pure poetry. Besides, there is a spiritual militancy in the rhythm that soothes or solaces, while its cadences solemnize the soul, begetting resignation to the Will of the Universe. Or listen to the triumphant, sonorous verbal music of these lines from Welcome Home:—
War-worn, sun-scorched, strained with the dust of toil,
And battle-scarred they come—victorious.
Exultantly we greet them—cleave the sky
With cheers, and fling our banners to the winds;
We raise triumphant songs, and strew their path
To do them homage—bid them ‘Welcome Home!’