But this at least, with courage and with mirth
We starveling poets and enthusiasts
Have shirked no battle for the stricken earth
Against its tyrants’ spears and arbalests.
And though I go to guard another sign,
These things, please God, shall stand and never slip—
(O friends of mine, O splendid friends of mine!)
Honour and Freedom and Goodfellowship,
On which and on your ragged chivalry
I always think with proud humility.
ALADDIN
THOUGH worlds all melt away in mist,
The Heavens’ slender filament,
The orange and the amethyst,
Are left me—and I am content!
I stand serene amid the shocks,
Upheavals, cataclysmic dust,
The binding fires, the falling rocks,
The withering of life and lust.
This little burnished lamp I hold
Has shattered the eternities;
The glamour of all unknown gold,
The ancient puissance of the seas,
The sunlight and the love of God
Are Cast in chains beneath my feet—
For at my first behest this sod
Becomes a cosmos, new, complete,
Instinct with unimagined power,
In colour radiant pole to pole,
The sudden glory of an hour,
The epic moment of my soul!