The elder might have been stell’d to show
The lady who led my boyish love;
But her face was graver than e’er to me
When I look’d in her eyes long ago,
And the hair on her shoulders fal’n
Nested its luminous brown
I’ the downy spring of her wings:
Her figure aneath was screen’d by the Earth,
Whereoff—so small that was
No footing for her could be—
She appeared to be sailing free
I’ the glide and poise of her flight.
Then knew I the Angel Faith,
Who was guarding human Love.
Happy were both, of peaceful mien,
Contented as mankind longeth to be,
Not merry as children are;
And show’d no fear of the Fiends’ pursuit,
As ever those demons clutched in vain;
And I, who had fear’d awhile to see
Such gentleness in such jeopardy,
Lost fear myself; for I saw the foes
Were slipping aback and had no hold
On the round Earth that sped its course.
The painted figures never could move,
But the artist’s mind was there:
The longer I look’d the more I knew
They were falling, falling away below
To the darkness out of sight.
“WAKE UP, ENGLAND!”[A]
Thou careless, awake!
Thou peacemaker, fight!
Stand England for honour
And God guard the Right!
Thy mirth lay aside,
Thy cavil and play;
The fiend is upon thee
And grave is the day.
* * *
Through fire, air and water
Thy trial must be;
But they that love life best
Die gladly for thee.