Mid-Ocean In War-Time
The fragile splendour of the level sea,
The moon's serene and silver-veiled face,
Make of this vessel an enchanted place
Full of white mirth and golden sorcery.
Now, for a time, shall careless laughter be
Blended with song, to lend song sweeter grace,
And the old stars, in their unending race,
Shall heed and envy young humanity.
And yet to-night, a hundred leagues away,
These waters blush a strange and awful red.
Before the moon, a cloud obscenely grey
Rises from decks that crash with flying lead.
And these stars smile their immemorial way
On waves that shroud a thousand newly dead!
Prayer Of A Soldier In France
1 My shoulders ache beneath my pack
2 (Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).
3 I march with feet that burn and smart
4 (Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart).
5 Men shout at me who may not speak
6 (They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek).
7 I may not lift a hand to clear
8 My eyes of salty drops that sear.
9 (Then shall my fickle soul forget
10 Thy agony of Bloody Sweat?)
11 My rifle hand is stiff and numb
12 (From Thy pierced palm red rivers come).
13 Lord, Thou didst suffer more for me
14 Than all the hosts of land and sea.
15 So let me render back again
16 This millionth of Thy gift. Amen.
