Dreams and Dust Part 2

Words are not guns. Words are not s.h.i.+ps.

And s.h.i.+ps and guns prevail.

Our liberties, that blood has gained, Are guarded, or they fail.

Truth does not triumph without blows, Error not tamely yields.

But falsehood closes with quick faith, Fierce, on a thousand fields.

And surely, somewhat of that faith Our fathers fought for clings!

Which called this freedom's hemisphere, Despite Earth's leagued kings.

Great creeds grow thews, or else they die.

Thought clothed in deed is lord.

What are thy G.o.ds? Thy G.o.ds brought love?

They also brought a sword.

Unchallenged, shall we always stand, Secure, apart, aloof?

Be not deceived. That hour shall come Which puts us to the proof.

Then, that we hold the trust we have Safeguarded for our sons, Let us cease dreaming! Let us have More s.h.i.+ps, more troops, more guns!

WITH THE SUBMARINES

ABOVE, the baffled twilight fails; beneath, the blind snakes creep; Beside us glides the charnel shark, our pilot through the deep; And, lurking where low headlands s.h.i.+eld from cruising scout and spy, We bide the signal through the gloom that bids us slay or die.

All watchful, mute, the crouching guns that guard the strait sea lanes-- Watchful and hawklike, plumed with hate, the desperate aeroplanes-- And still as death and swift as fate, above the darkling coasts, The spying Wireless sows the night with troops of stealthy ghosts,

While hushed through all her huddled streets the tide-walled city waits The drumming thunders that announce brute battle at her gates.

Southward a hundred windy leagues, through storms that blind and bar, Our cheated cruisers search the waves, our captains seek the war; But here the port of peril is; the foeman's dreadnoughts ride Sullen and black against the moon, upon a sullen tide.

And only we to launch ourselves against their stark advance-- To guide uncertain lightnings through these treacherous seas of chance!

And now a wheeling searchlight paints a signal on the night; And now the bellowing guns are loud with the wild l.u.s.t of fight.

And now, her flanks of steel apulse with all the power of h.e.l.l, Forth from the darkness leaps in pride a hateful miracle, The flags.h.i.+p of their Admiral--and now G.o.d help and save!-- We challenge Death at Death's own game; we sink beneath the wave!

Ah, steady now--and one good blow--one straight stab through the gloom-- Ah, good!--the thrust went home!--she founders-- flounders to her doom!-- Full speed ahead!--those d.a.m.ned quick-firing guns --but let them bark-- What's that--the dynamos?--they've got us, men!

--_Christ! in the dark!_

NICHOLAS OF MONTENEGRO

(1912)

HE speaks as straight as his rifles shot, As straight as a thrusting blade, Waiting the deed that shall trouble the truce His savage guns have made.

"You have dared the wrath of a dozen states,"

Was the challenge that he heard; "We can die but once!" said the grim old King As he gripped his mountain sword.

"For I paid in blood for the town I took, The blood of my brave men slain,-- And if you covet the town I took You must buy it with blood again!"

Stern old King of the stark, black hills, Where the lean, fierce eagles breed, Your speech rings true as your good sword rings-- And you are a king indeed!

d.i.c.kENS

"The only book that the party had was a volume of d.i.c.kens.

During the six months that they lay in the cave which they had hacked in the ice, waiting for spring to come, they read this volume through again and again."--_From a newspaper report of an antarctic expedition._

HUDDLED within their savage lair They hearkened to the prowling wind; They heard the loud wings of despair ...

And madness beat against the mind....

A sunless world stretched stark outside As if it had cursed G.o.d and died; Dumb plains lay p.r.o.ne beneath the weight Of cold unutterably great; Iron ice bound all the bitter seas, The brutal hills were bleak as hate....

Here none but Death might walk at ease!

Then d.i.c.kens spoke, and, lo! the vast Unpeopled void stirred into life;

The dead world quickened, the mad blast Hushed for an hour its idiot strife With nothingness....

And from the gloom, Parting the flaps of frozen skin, Old friends and dear came trooping in, And light and laughter filled the room....

Voices and faces, shapes beloved, Babbling lips and kindly eyes, Not ghosts, but friends that lived and moved ...

They brought the sun from other skies, They wrought the magic that dispels The bitterer part of loneliness ...

And when they vanished each man dreamed His dream there in the wilderness....

One heard the chime of Christmas bells, And, staring down a country lane, Saw bright against the window-pane The firelight beckon warm and red....

And one turned from the waterside Where Thames rolls down his slothful tide To breast the human sea that beats Through roaring London's battered streets

And revel in the moods of men....

And one saw all the April hills Made glad with golden daffodils, And found and kissed his love again....

By all the troubled hearts he cheers In homely ways or by lost trails, By all light shed through all dark years When hope grows sick and courage quails, We hail him first among his peers; Whether we sorrow, sing, or feast, He, too, hath known and understood-- Master of many moods, high priest Of mirth and lord of cleansing tears!

A POLITICIAN

LEADER no more, be judged of us!

Hailed Chief, and loved, of yore-- Youth, and the faith of youth, cry out: _Leader and Chief no more!_

We dreamed a Prophet, flushed with faith, Content to toil in pain If that his sacrifice might be, Somehow, his people's gain.

We saw a vision, and our blood Beat red and hot and strong: _"Lead us_ (we cried) _to war against Some foul, embattled wrong!"_

We dreamed a Warrior whose sword Was edged for sham and shame; We dreamed a Statesman far above The vulgar l.u.s.t for fame.