Acanthus and Wild Grape
Of that dark heaven, not a single star
To whisper;--Love and Life the victors are.
It seemed to them that wrong had conquered right.
O ye who watch and wait, the night is long.
A curtain of spun fire and woven gloom
Across the mighty tragedy is drawn.
But soon your ears shall hear a triumph song,
And golden light shall touch each sacred tomb,
And voices shout at last--The Dawn! The Dawn.
_Dedicated to Lieutenant Rodolphe Lemieux, killed in action August 29, 1918._
I do not think of them--our glorious dead--
As laying tired heads upon the breast
Of a kind mother to be lulled to rest;
I do not see them in a narrow bed
Of alien earth by their own blood dyed red,
But see in their own simple phrase--Gone West--
The words of knights upon a holy quest,
Who saw the light and followed where it led.
Gone West! Scarred warrior hosts go marching by,