RI

STIMULANTS FOR A FAINT HEART

(Poems of Courage)

AT THE END OF THE DAY

BY RICHARD HOVEY

There is no escape by the river,
There is no flight left by the fen;
We are compassed about by the shiver
Of the night of their marching men,
Give a cheer!

For our hearts shall not give way.

Here's to a dark to-morrow,

And here's to a brave to-day!

The tale of their hosts is countless,

And the tale of ours a score;

But the palm is naught to the dauntless,

And the cause is more and more.

Give a cheer!

We may die, but not give way.

Here's to a silent morrow,

And here's to a stout to-day!

God has said: "Ye shall fail and perish;
But the thrill ye have felt to-night

I shall keep in my heart and cherish
When the worlds have passed in night."
Give a cheer!

For the soul shall not give way.

Here's to the greater to-morrow

That is born of a great to-day!

Now shame on the craven truckler
And the puling things that mope!
We've a rapture for our buckler
That outwears the wings of hope.
Give a cheer!

For our joy shall not give way.
Here's in the teeth of to-morrow
To the glory to to-day!

THE KINGS

BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY

A man said unto his angel:
"My spirits are fallen thro',
And I cannot carry this battle;
O brother! what shall I do?

"The terrible Kings are on me,
With spears that are deadly bright,
Against me so from the cradle
Do fate and my fathers fight."

Then said to the man his angel:
"Thou wavering, foolish soul,
Back to the ranks! What matter
To win or to lose the whole,

"As judged by the little judges
Who hearken not well, nor see?
Not thus, by the outer issue,
The Wise shall interpret thee.

"Thy will is the very, the only,
The solemn event of things;
The weakest of hearts defying
Is stronger than all these Kings.

"Tho' out of the past they gather,
Mind's Doubt and Bodily Pain,
And pallid Thirst of the Spirit
That is kin to the other twain,

"And Grief, in a cloud of banners, And ringleted Vain Desires,

And Vice, with the spoils upon him Of thee and thy beaten sires,

"While Kings of eternal evil
Yet darken the hills about,
Thy part is with broken sabre
To rise on the last redoubt,

"To fear not sensible failure,
Nor covet the game at all,
But fighting, fighting, fighting,
Die, driven against the wall!"