Two Fishers, and Other Poems Part 2

One of them had round eyes like coals-- True parson's quarry when he hunts souls.

The brawniest made my heart turn queer; The devil in h.e.l.l would have shunned his leer.

And the tallest and thinnest bore visible traces Of his banished grandsire's vanished graces.

But all the lot of that swaggering ten Were terrible, fine, strong soldier-men; And I fairly sobbed at the four cross ways As my triumphing soul sang England's praise.

O! all the Germans in Berlin town Couldn't put those ten Australians down.

THE NEW BEGINNING

They had fought the last desperate battle.

They had deluged the earth with their rage And the crimson flood mounted to Heaven, And drew up each soul from its grave.

And sent them foeman with foeman To shatter the quiet of the skies.

And lo! they commingled together With the hope of G.o.d in their eyes.

And in faith they went peacefully singing, And waking dead stars to new birth, Till Earth knew Heaven as her lover, And Heaven leaned down gracious to Earth,

And tendered her blossoms of healing, And rained on her kindness of tears, And gave back in trust to her lover The bloom of the sacrificed years.

A GAME OF CHESS

We ranged the chessmen on the chequered deal.

And then I said, "To make the game more real We'll play the Great War. I'll be Germany; For you, I guess, the Goth would never be."

And thus it came that I chose black--he, white.

He on Truth's side; I clothed myself with night.

And, crying for a sign unto the Lord, We cramped all Europe in a foot-square board.

We were two Causes--I, who did detest That Wrong should triumph, though it were in jest, Played with soul-sinews cracking, played with zest; And, every heart-cell beating battle's drum, I struck with Queen and p.a.w.ns for Belgium.

I've never played as on that fateful night, I fairly lost my temper in the fight, Queens left their thrones; p.a.w.ns, castles strewed the table, There never were two causes so unstable.

And then when he'd six pieces, and I eight, Half of them p.a.w.ns, he pulled the noose of fate; And with a knight, a castle--unawares,-- A bishop in a corner breathing prayers, He caught me tripping. "Checkmate! Smashed!" he said, And like a beaten Hun I stole to bed.

SNOW

My heart delights in poet's minstrelsie, In pictures ranged down some long gallerie, In mandolins and all sweet melodie.

And yet, when I go walking through the woods On frosty days, and watch the falling snow, I would renounce all Culture's radiant moods To live in ice-lands with the Eskimo.

How purely gleams the mantle of the snow!

How softly sing the myriad silver tongues Of whirling flakes that wrought Earth's overthrow!

With the keen air I fill my tired lungs, And shout for joy and dance for very mirth Because all Heaven has fallen down to Earth.

And in this mood I'd save my soul, and so Through pure clean ways right into Heaven go.

AIR RAID

I wonder if they'll come to-night!

The round moon rolls in silvery light, No sound throbs on the windless air.

For, though I tremble to confess, I never feel more cheerfulness Than when the German raiders fly Like bees across the cloudless sky.

And neither pity, pain, nor terror Will ever wean me from my error.

For oh, to hear the mad guns go, And watch the starry night aglow With radiance of crackling fires And the white searchlight's quivering spires!

For sure, such splendour doth a.s.suage The very cannon of its rage!

My neighbour plays a violin, Shredding sweet silver down the din And songs for fears to dwindle in.

But the houses shake; and the dogs wake.

They growl, they bark for warrior joy, And seek the airmen to annoy.

Up go their tails into the air, They gnash their teeth, and their eyes glare.

But on those cruel raiders sail, Regardless of each quivering tail.

And one gun has a booming note, Another has a cold in throat; And some are mellow, and some hoa.r.s.e, And some sound sobbing with remorse; Quite four or five ring musical, And others very keen to kill.

You'd say that twenty champagne corks Were popping in the London walks.

You'd say that drunken men in scores Were smas.h.i.+ng gla.s.s and slamming doors.

You'd say a tw.a.n.ging banjo string Had snapped in twain with hammering.

You'd say that wild orchestral fellows Were banging G.o.d's Throne with their cellos.

A wail, a crash, like steel trays falling, And a wind upon the Common--calling.

And over us a sound of humming --Of hornets or bad bees a-b.u.mming!

A devilish, strident, hoa.r.s.e, discordant Whirring of dark fliers mordant.

My soul stands still and sweats with fear.

But the Heavenly stars, all s.h.i.+mmering, Dance in a giddy whirl and sing.

And other stars, of the Earth, shake sheer From the mouths of the black guns thundering.

'Tis like some ruining harmony I heard in Berlin on the Spree The day they played the Valkyrie.