"The busy housewife on the snow
To bleach lays out her linen store,
And scolds because with careless feet
The children track the spotless floor.
With nightfall comes the slow warm rain,
The purl of waters fills the air,
And save where roll the gleaming drifts
The fields lie sullen, black, and bare."
But Mr. McArthur does not write simply of the life around him; the life within is of greater import to him. Here, as evidence of this, is a fine sonnet of his, entitled Summum Bonum. Mr. McArthur, it might be noted in passing, is a real master of the sonnet for all his few accomplishments in that form of verse:
"How blest is he that can but love and do,
And has no skill of speech nor trick of art
Wherewith to tell what faith approveth true
And show for fame the treasures of his heart.
When wisely weak upon the path of duty
Divine accord has made his footing sure
With humble deeds he builds his life to beauty,
Strong to achieve and patient to endure.
But they that in the market-place we meet,
Each with his trumpet and his noisy faction,
Are leaky vessels, pouring on the street
The truth they know ere it hath known its action:
Yet which, think ye, in His benign regard,
Or words or deeds shall merit the reward?
Agnes Maule Machar is another of the group of patriotic poets whose theme is often that of the Empire. She discerns the imperial conditions, and she is intensely in sympathy with the richness and beauty of the land. In Miss Machar's A Prayer for Dominion Day these fine lines occur:
"O God of nations, who hast set her place
Between the rising and the setting day,
Her part in this world's changeful course to play,
Soothe the conflicting passions that we trace
In her unrestful eyes—grant her the grace
To know the one true, perfect love, that may
Give noble impulse to her onward way—
God's love, that doth all other love embrace!"
Lloyd Roberts, one of the young poets of the Dominion, the eldest living son of Charles G. D. Roberts, is true to his poetic birthright, and is the author of an impressive war poem, Come Quietly, England, which opens as follows:
"Come quietly, England, all together, come!
It is time!
We have waited, weighed, and blundered, wondered
Who had blundered;
Stared askance at one another
As our brother slew our brother,
And went about our business,
Saying, 'It will be all right—some day.
Let the soldiers do the killing—
If they're willing—
Let the sailors do the manning,
Let the cabinets do the planning.
Let the bankers do the paying
And the clergy do the praying.
The Empire is a fixture,
Walled and welded by five oceans,
And a little blood won't move it,
Nor a flood-tide of emotions.'
Well, now we know the truth
And the facts of all this fighting;
How 'tis not for England's glory
But for all a wide world's righting.
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