I take the lesson, wipe my brow
And throw my axe aside,
And, sorely wearied, I go home
In the tranquil eventide.
And soon the rising moon, that lights
The eve of my defeat,
Shall see me sitting as of yore
By my old master’s feet.
PRELUDE
By sunny market-place and street
Wherever I go my drum I beat,
And wherever I go in my coat of red
The ribbons flutter about my head.
I seek recruits for wars to come—
For slaughterless wars I beat the drum,
And the shilling I give to each new ally
Is hope to live and courage to die.
I know that new recruits shall come
Wherever I beat the sounding drum,
Till the roar of the march by country and town
Shall shake the tottering Dagons down.
For I was objectless as they
And loitering idly day by day;
But whenever I heard the recruiters come,
I left my all to follow the drum.
THE VANQUISHED KNIGHT
I have left all upon the shameful field,
Honour and Hope, my God, and all but life;
Spurless, with sword reversed and dinted shield,
Degraded and disgraced, I leave the strife.
From him that hath not, shall there not be taken
E’en that he hath, when he deserts the strife?
Life left by all life’s benefits forsaken,
O keep the promise, Lord, and take the life.