The Red Flower | Page 2

faith that makes a mighty land,
True to the bond you
gave and will not break
And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake!

Against Giant Robber clad in steel,
With blood of trampled
Belgium on his heel,
Striding through France to strike you down at
last,
Britain, stand fast!
Stand fast, brave land!
The Huns are thundering toward the citadel;

They prate of Culture but their path is Hell;
Their light is darkness,
and the bloody sword
They wield and worship is their only Lord.
O
land where reason stands secure on right,
O land where freedom is
the source of light,
Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast,
Britain, stand fast!
Stand fast, dear land!
Thou island mother of a world-wide race,

Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face,
Their hearts and
hopes are with thee in the strife,
Their hands will break the sword that
seeks thy life;
Fight on until the Teuton madness cease;
Fight
bravely on, until the word of peace
Is spoken in the English tongue at
last,
Britain, stand fast!
September, 1914.
LIGHTS OUT

(1915)
"Lights out" along the land,
"Lights out" upon the sea.
The night
must put her hiding hand
O'er peaceful towns where children sleep,

And peaceful ships that darkly creep
Across the waves, as if they
were not free.
The dragons of the air,
The hell-hounds of the deep,
Lurking and
prowling everywhere,
Go forth to seek their helpless prey,
Not
knowing whom they maim or slay--
Mad harvesters, who care not
what they reap.
Out with the tranquil lights,
Out with the lights that burn
For love
and law and human rights!
Set back the clock a thousand years:
All
they have gained now disappears,
And the dark ages suddenly return.
Kaiser who loosed wild death
And terror in the night
God grant you
draw no quiet breath,
Until the madness you began
Is ended, and
long-suffering man,
Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be
Light."
October, 1915.
Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston,
November,
1915.
REMARKS ABOUT KINGS
God said, "I am tired of kings."--EMERSON.
God said, "I am tired of kings,"--
But that was a long time ago!
And
meantime man said, "No,
I like their looks in their robes and rings."

So he crowned a few more,
And they went on playing the game as
before
Fighting and spoiling things.
Man said, "I am tired of kings!
Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore,


They make me pay for their lust and their war;
I am the puppet, they
pull the strings;
The blood of my heart is the wine they drink.
I will
govern myself for while I think,
And see what that brings!"
Then God, who made the first remark,
Smiled in the dark.
Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston.
November,
1915.
WAR-MUSIC
Break off! Dance no more!
Danger is at the door.
Music is in arms.

To signal war's alarms,
Hark, a sudden trumpet calling
Over the hill
Why are you calling,
trumpet, calling?
What is your will?
Men, men, men!
Men who are ready to fight
For their country's life,
and the right.
Of a liberty-loving land to be
Free, free, free!
Free
from a tyrant's chain,
Free from dishonor's stain,
Free to guard and
maintain
All that her fathers fought for,
All that her sons have
wrought for,
Resolute, brave, and free!
Call again, trumpet, call again,
Call up the men!
Do you hear the storm of cheers
Mingled with the
women's tears
And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet?
Do
you hear the throbbing drum
As the hosts of battle come
Keeping
time, time, time to its beat?
O Music give a song
To make their
spirit strong
For the fury of the tempest they must meet.
The hoarse roar
Of the monster guns;
And the sharp bark
Of the
lesser guns;
The whine of the shells,
The rifles' clatter
Where the
bullets patter,
The rattle, rattle, rattle

Of the mitrailleuse in battle,

And the yells
Of the men who charge through hells
Where the

poison gas descends.
And the bursting shrapnel rends
Limb from
limb
In the dim
Chaos and clamor of the strife
Where no man
thinks of his life
But only of fighting through,
Blindly fighting
through, through!
'Tis done
At last!
The victory won,
The dissonance of warfare
past!
O Music mourn the dead
Whose loyal blood was shed,
And sound
the taps for every hero slain;
Then lend into the song
That made
their spirit strong,
And tell the world they did not die in vain.
Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn,
The invincible flag that
our fathers defended;
And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have
sworn,
That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended,
Then the
bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord
Of the nations oppressed
by the conqueror's horde,
But the banners of freedom shall peacefully
wave
O'er the world of the free and the lands of the brave.
May, 1916
MIGHT AND RIGHT
If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage;
If Right made
Might, this were the golden age;
But now, until we win the long
campaign
Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign.
July 1, 1915.
THE PRICE OF PEACE
Peace without Justice is a low estate,--
A coward cringing to an iron
Fate!
But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,--
We'll pay the
price of war