THE CRUSADERS
Daily we waited word or sign—
They were our children, these
Who held the unsleeping battle-line
Beyond the haunted seas,
Who gave their golden unlived years
And that clear pathway trod
Lifting through sunset gates of fire
To the far tents of God.
Through trackless realms of unknown space
They wander, unafraid,
For nothing do they fear to face
In worlds that God has made.
Freed from the shattered bonds of earth
They meet their comrades free,
To share the service of the Lord
In truth and loyalty.
Elizabeth's wise admirals guard
Their dear-loved England's coast.
From Somme and Meuse no cannon barred
The Maid's undaunted host.
And still the Foreign Legion hears
In every desperate chance
Her children's crashing battle-cry—
“For France! For France! For France!”
The captains of the hosts of God
Know every man by name,
When from the torn and bleeding sod
Their spirits pass like flame.
The maid must wait her lover still,
The mother wait her son,—
For very love they may not leave
The task they have begun.
If secret plot of greed or fear
Shall bid the trumpets cease,
And bind the lands they held so dear
To base dishonored peace,
How shall their white battalions rest
Or sheathe the sword of light,—
The unbroken armies of our dead,
Who have not ceased to fight!
NOTES
PEIROL OF THE PIGEONS
The troubadour, minstrel and jongleur or joglar, were not the same in dignity. A troubadour or trouvere was a poet who sang his own compositions to his own music. A jongleur was a singer who was not a poet, though he might make songs. He corresponded more nearly to the modern vaudeville performer. The minstrel was something between the two.
THE TAPESTRY CHAMBER
Saint George was not formally adopted as the patron saint of England until some time after this.
LULLABY OF THE PICT MOTHER