And slit-eyed men and ring-nosed men

Shall bar our glorious way again

That proud armadas’ trampled shards

May make a new song for our bards!

For we are young—and youth is steel!

Hark! at our shattering trumpet-peal

The spaniel worlds slink in to heel!”

Eh bien—the fire’s gone out,” you said

“And I’m tired, too.... Let’s go to bed!...”

FLOOD-TIDE