What most I loved is gone. I walk alone.

"_My Love shall more than fill his place, my own._"

The burden is too great for me to bear.

"_Not when I'm here to take an equal share._"

The road is long, and very wearisome.

"_Just on in front I see the light of home._"

The night is black; I fear to go astray.

"_Hold My hand fast. I'll lead you all the way._"

My eyes are dim, with weeping all the night.

"_With one soft kiss I will restore your sight._"

And Thou wilt do all this for me?--for me?

"_For this I came--to bear you company._"

ALPHA--OMEGA

Curly head, and laughing eyes,-- Mischief that all blame defies.

Cricket,--footer,--Eton-jacket,-- Everlasting din and racket.

Tennis,--boating,--socks and ties,-- Tragedies,--and comedies.

Business,--sobered,--getting on,-- One girl now,--The Only One.

London Scottish,--sporran,--kilt,-- Bonnet c.o.c.ked at proper tilt.

Dies Irae!--Off to France,-- Lord,--a safe deliverance!

Deadly work,--foul gases,--trenches; Naught that radiant spirit quenches.

Letters dated "Somewhere--France,"-- Mud,--and grub,--and no romance.

Hearts at home all on the quiver, Telegrams make backbones shiver.

Silence!--Feverish enquiry;-- Dies Irae!--Dies Irae!

His the joy,--and ours the pain, But, ere long, we'll meet again.

Not too much we'll sorrow--for It's both "a Dieu!" and "au revoir!"

HAIL!--AND FAREWELL!

They died that we might live,-- _Hail!--And Farewell!_ --All honour give To those who, n.o.bly striving, n.o.bly fell, That we might live!

That we might live they died,-- _Hail!--And Farewell!_ --Their courage tried, By every mean device of treacherous hate, Like Kings they died.

Eternal honour give,-- _Hail!--And Farewell!--_ --To those who died, In that full splendour of heroic pride, That we might live!

A SILENT TE DEUM

We thank Thee, Lord, For all Thy Golden Silences,-- For every Sabbath from the world's turmoil; For every respite from the stress of life;-- Silence of moorlands rolling to the skies, Heath-purpled, bracken-clad, aflame with gorse; Silence of grey tors crouching in the mist; Silence of deep woods' mystic cloistered calm; Silence of wide seas basking in the sun; Silence of white peaks soaring to the blue; Silence of dawnings, when, their matins sung, The little birds do fall asleep again; For the deep silence of high golden noons; Silence of gloamings and the setting sun; Silence of moonlit nights and patterned glades; Silence of stars, magnificently still, Yet ever chanting their Creator's skill; For that high silence of Thine Open House, Dim-branching roof and lofty-pillared aisle, Where burdened hearts find rest in Thee awhile; Silence of friendship, telling more than words; Silence of hearts, close-knitting heart to heart Silence of joys too wonderful for words; Silence of sorrows, when Thou drawest near; Silence of soul, wherein we come to Thee, And find ourselves in Thine Immensity; For that great silence where Thou dwell'st alone-- --Father, Spirit, Son, in One, Keeping watch above Thine Own,-- Deep unto deep, within us sound sweet chords Of praise beyond the reach of human words; In our souls' silence, feeling only Thee,-- We thank Thee, thank Thee, Thank Thee, Lord!

THE NAMELESS GRAVES

Unnamed at times, at times unknown, Our graves lie thick beyond the seas; Unnamed, but not of Him unknown;-- He knows!--He sees!

And not one soul has fallen in vain.

Here was no useless sacrifice.

From this red sowing of white seed New life shall rise.

All that for which they fought lives on, And flourishes triumphantly; Watered with blood and hopeful tears, It could not die.

The world was sinking in a slough Of sloth, and ease, and selfish greed; G.o.d surely sent this scourge to mould A n.o.bler creed.

Birth comes with travail; all these woes Are birth-pangs of the days to be.

Life's n.o.blest things are ever born In agony.

So--comfort to the stricken heart!

Take solace in the thought that he You mourn was called by G.o.d to such High dignity.

BLINDED!

You that still have your sight, Remember me!-- I risked my life, I lost my eyes, That you might see.

Now in the dark I go, That you have light.

Yours, all the joy of day, I have but night.

Yours still, the faces dear, The fields, the sky.

For me--ah me!--there's nought But this black misery!

In this unending night, I can but see What once I saw, and fain Would see again.