The Red Flower | Page 6

February 12, 1917.
"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD"
Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay,
The fogs of
doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away:
Thine eyes at last look
far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand To spread the light of liberty
world-wide for every land.
No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee,
While
friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea; The battle
that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; The swollen flood of
Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all.
O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains;
The paths they
plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains: No faith they keep,
no law revere, no god but naked Might;-- They are the foemen of
mankind. Up, Liberty; and smite!
Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born,
Have waited
for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! Serene and strong
and full of faith, America, arise,
With steady hope and mighty help to
join thy brave Allies.
O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire,
Make clean
thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire;
For thou must suffer,
thou must fight, until the war-lords cease, And all the peoples lift their
heads in liberty and peace.
London Times, April 12, 1917.

THE OXFORD THRUSHES
FEBRUARY, 1917
I never thought again to hear
The Oxford thrushes singing clear,

Amid the February rain,
Their sweet, indomitable strain.
A wintry vapor lightly spreads
Among the trees, and round the beds

Where daffodil and jonquil sleep,
Only the snowdrop wakes to
weep.
It is not springtime yet. Alas,
What dark, tempestuous days must pass,

Till England's trial by battle cease,
And summer comes again with
peace.
The lofty halls, the tranquil towers,
Where Learning in untroubled
hours
Held her high court, serene in fame,
Are lovely still, yet not
the same.
The novices in fluttering gown
No longer fill the ancient town,
But
fighting men in khaki drest--
And in the Schools the wounded rest.
Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies
Full many a son of Oxford lies,

And whispers from his warrior grave,
"I died to keep the faith you
gave."
The mother mourns, but does not fail,
Her courage and her love
prevail
O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears
The promise of triumphant
years.
Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain
Your sweet, indomitable strain.

Ye bring a word from God on high
And voices in our hearts reply.
HOMEWARD BOUND
Home, for my heart still calls me;
Home, through the danger zone;


Home, whatever befalls me,
I will sail again to my own!
Wolves of the sea are hiding
Closely along the way,
Under the
water biding
Their moment to rend and slay.
Black is the eagle that brands them,
Black are their hearts as the night,

Black is the hate that sends them
To murder but not to fight.
Flower of the German Culture,
Boast of the Kaiser's Marine,

Choose for your emblem the vulture,
Cowardly, cruel, obscene!
Forth from her sheltered haven
Our peaceful ship glides slow,

Noiseless in flight as a raven,
Gray as a hoodie crow.
She doubles and turns in her bearing,
Like a twisting plover she goes;

The way of her westward faring
Only the captain knows.
In a lonely bay concealing
She lingers for days, and slips
At dusk
from her covert, stealing
Thro' channels feared by the ships.
Brave are the men, and steady,
Who guide her over the deep,--

British mariners, ready
To face the sea-wolf's leap.
Lord of the winds and waters,
Bring our ship to her mark,
Safe
from this game of hide-and-seek
With murderers in the dark!
On the S.S. Baltic, May, 1917.
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