The eastern sky grew all aglow,
A tinted fleet sailed just below.

The thick wood and the clinging mist
Slow parted, wept good-bye, and kissed.

To primrose, tulip, daffodil,
The wind came piping gay and shrill:

'Wake up! wake up! while day is new,
And all the world is washed with dew!'

O Radiance Of Life's Morning

O Radiance of life's morning! O gold without alloy!
O love that lives through all the years! O full, O perfect joy!
The hills of earth touch heaven, the heaven of blue and gold,
And angel voices swell the song of love and peace untold!

O radiance of life's morning!
The dew within the rose,
The fragrance fresh from Eden
That freights each breeze that blows!

Dear Christ, the wine of Cana pour out in rich supply,
These hearts keep young with gladness while all the years go by!

O radiance of life's morning!
O gold without alloy!
O love that lives through all the years,
O full, O perfect joy!

All On An April Morning

The teacher was wise and learned, I wis,
All nonsense she held in scorning,
But you never can tell what the primmest miss
Will do of a bright spring morning.

What this one did was to spread a snare
For feet of a youth unheeding,
As March, with a meek and lamb-like air,
To its very last hour was speeding.

Oh, he was the dullard of his class,
For how can a youth get learning
With his eyes aye fixed on a pretty lass
And his heart aye filled with yearning?

'Who finds 'mong the rushes which fringe a pool,'
She told him, 'the first wind blossom,
May wish what he will'-poor April fool,
With but one wish in his bosom.

Her gray eyes danced-on a wild-goose chase
He'd sally forth on the morrow,
And, later, she'd laugh in his sombre face,
And jest at his words of sorrow.

But penitence and a troubled mind
Were fruits of the night's reflection;
After all, he was simple, and strong, and kind-
'Twas wrong to flout his affection.

They met on the hill as she walked to school;
He said, unheeding her blushes,
'Here's the early flower your April fool
Found growing among the rushes.

'Take it or leave it as you will'-
His voice ringing out so clearly
Awoke in her heart a happy thrill-
'You know that I love you dearly.'

Day-dreams indulged as she taught the school
Held lovers kneeling and suing;
'Take it or leave it'-her April fool
Was masterful in his wooing.

He gave her the flower-she gave him a kiss-
His suit she had long been scorning;
But you never can tell what the primmest miss
Will do of a bright spring morning.

What Time The Morning Stars Arise

ABOVE him spreads the purple sky,
Beneath him spreads the ether sea,
And everywhere about him lie
Dim ports of space, and mystery.

Ho, lonely Admiral of the Fleet!
What of the night? What of the night?
'Methinks I hear,' he says, 'the beat
Of great wings rising for the flight.'

Ho, Admiral neighbouring with the stars
Above the old world's stress and din!
With Jupiter and lordly Mars–
'Ah, yonder sweeps a Zeppelin!

'A bird with menace in its breath,
A thing of peril, spoil and strife,
The little children done to death,
The helpless old bereft of life.

'The moan of stricken motherhood,
The cowardice beyond our ken,
The cruelty that fires the blood,
And shocks the souls of honest men.

'These call for vengeance–mine the chase.'
He guides his craft–elate and strong.
Up, up, through purple seas of space,
While in his heart there grows a song.

'Ho, little ship of mine that soars
Twixt earth and sky, be ours to-day
To free our harassed seas and shores
Of yonder evil bird of prey!'

The gallant venture is his own,
No friend to caution, pray, or aid,
But strong is he who fights alone,
Of loss and failure unafraid.

He rises higher, higher still,
Till poised above the startled foe–
It is a fight to stir and thrill
And set the dullest breast aglow.

Old Britain hath her battles won
On fields that are a nation's pride,
And oh the deeds of daring done
Upon her waters deep and wide!

But warfare waged on solid land,
Or on the sea, can scarce compare
With this engagement, fierce, yet grand,
This duel to the death in air.

He wins! he wins in sea of space!
Why prate we now of other wars
Since he has won his name and place
By deathless valour 'mong the stars?

No more that Zeppelin will mock,
No more will sound her song of hate;
With bursting bomb, and fire, and shock,
She hurtles downward to her fate.

A touch of rose in eastern skies,
A little breeze that calls and sings,
Look yonder where our hero flies,
Like homing bird on eager wings.

He sees the white mists softly curl,
He sees the moon drift pale and wan,
Sees Venus climb the stairs of pearl
To hold her court of Love at dawn.

As 'Peace on earth!' the glad world sings one glorious Christmas morn,
'Peace, peace on earth! Good-will to men! Peace, peace! the Christ is born!'
As through the courts, the wondrous courts, of heaven hosannas ring,
As harpers strike their harps of gold and 'Glory! Glory!' sing,
Upon the City's threshold fair
A woman steps, and lingers there.

The eyes she turns on Peter's face with unshed tears are dim,
'Tell Christ,' she says, 'a mother waits who fain would speak with Him.'
Through all the music, far above the highest, grandest note
Of triumph, and of joy and praise, her soft voice seems to float;
And hearing it, straight from His throne
Comes down to her the Kingly One
With shining face and eyes that hold
Such wealth of love and peace,
She feels her trembling heart grow bold,
Her doubt and grieving cease.
'Dear Lord!' she cries, and lowly kneels, 'I have a prayer to make;
O do Thou hear and answer it for Thine own mercy's sake,
Since heaven will not seem fair to me
If one dear face I may not see.

'Dear Christ, a mother's love is great
To shield, to guide, to watch, to wait.
The last kiss that I gave on earth was to my wayward son,
Whose soul, though deeply stainèd by sin, may yet by love be won
To penitence, to higher walk, to purer, holier way;
O wilt Thou let me to go to him and guard him night and day?

'Thou wert a babe in Bethlehem, a mother guarded Thee.
I pray Thee now, for her dear sake, to hearken unto me!
Remember how she held Thee close, and crooned Thee, sweet and low,
The lullabies that mothers sang long centuries ago,
And bared her snowy breast to Thee,
And stroked Thy forehead tenderly.

'And kissed Thee oft, and told herself, again and yet again,
To hold Thee thus one hour outweighed the travail and the pain!
Dear Christ, this city is most fair; its glories thrill and move;
O doth it grieve Thee that my heart cleaves to an earthly love?
That on mine eyes heaven's beauties dim
Because my heart is back with him?

'With him-the wandering son of mine, the wayward one-whose need
Of patient love and guiding hand is very great indeed!
Think not I love Thee not, dear Lord, nor long for heaven's rest;
'Tis only that the mother-heart throbs fiercely in my breast.
On this glad morning of Thy birth,
O grant me leave to visit earth!'

Lo! on her head she feels the touch of tender wounded hand,
'Fear not,' she hears, 'a love like thine the Christ can understand.
No mother prays in vain to Me on this day of the year,
For when the faltering words she speaks fall on My waiting ear,
I do remember that My cheek
Lay on a bosom warm,
I do remember Bethlehem,
And Mary's cradling arm.'