The Undying Race

Here in the narrow broken way
Where silently we go.
Steadfast above their valiant clay
Forgotten crosses show.
Our whispers call to many a ghost
Across the flare-light pale,
And from their graves the Breton host
Stand up beside the Gael.

Year upon year of ancient sleep
Have rusted on our swords,
But once again our place we keep
Against the Saxon hordes.
Since Arthur ruled in Brittany,
And all the world was new.
The fires that burned our history,
Bum in our spirits too.

One speech beyond their memory
Binds us together still,
One dream of home wherein we see
River and sea and hill.
When in the night-time Fingal's peers
Fight their old wars again,
The blood of twice two thousand years
Leaps high in every vein.

Old songs that waked King Arthur's knights
Stir in our memory yet.
Old tales of olden heroes fights
That we cannot forget,
To die as Fingal's warriors died
The great men long ago,
Breton and Gael stand side by side
Against the ancient foe.

To A Private Soldier

The air is still, the light winds blow
Too quietly to wake you now.
Dreamer, you dream too well to know
'Whose hand set death upon your brow,
The shrinking flesh the bullets tore
Will never pulse with fear again;

Sleep on, remembering no more
Your sudden agony of pain.

Oh, poor brave smiling face made naught,
Turned back to dust from whence you came,
You have forgot the men you fought,
The wounds that burnt you like a flame;

With stiff hand crumbling a clod,
And blind eyes staring at the sky,
The awful evidence of God
Against the men who made you die.

You have forgotten, sleeping well,
But what of them? shall they forget
Your body broken with the shell,
Your brow whereon their seal is set?
Does earth for them hold any place
Where they shall never see the flies
Clustered about your empty face
And on your blind, accusing eyes?

Good-night, good sleep to you. But they
Will never know good-night again,
Whose eyes are seeing night and day,
The humble men who died in vain.
Their ears are filled with bitter cries,
Their nostrils with the powder smell,
And shall see your mournful eyes
Across the reeking fires of hell.

Where The Light Wraith Of Death Goes Dancing

Where the light wraith of death goes dancing
In and out of the wavering line,
Now retreating and now advancing
Till opposite you he makes the sign,
Though the wind of his breath be on you,
Though in your flesh you feel the smart,
There have been worse things laid upon you,
Be steadfast and endure my heart.

There is no need of honour for you,
There is no gift the gods can send,
Only the weary days before you.
Only endurance to the end.
This remains that in all temptation
Still your head shall be lifted high.
You that have known a worse damnation.
Why should you be afraid to die ?

You that are dead and damned already,
How should you be afraid of death ?
Strength remains to you firm and steady
Enduring still to your latest breath,
Eyes to see and ears for hearing,
Things and words you would fain forget,
And anger to slay the snake of fearing
That lives in the heart of the dead man yet.

Fear? If hope is a thing forgotten.
What can you fear the gods will do ?
If the heart and kernel of life is rotten
What is the husk to trouble you ?
Stand up straight to your work, be strong, lad.
Never a fear of bullet or shell.
You that have lived in hell for long, lad.
Needn't be fearing to die in hell.