And now as then our dream is one;
Still as of old our hearts unite
To dream and battle for the Right.

Nor memories alone are ours,
But purpose for the Future strong,
Across the seas two signal towers,
Keeping stern watch against the Wrong;
Seeking, with hearts of deep accord,
A better wisdom than the Sword.

We are with France, in brotherhood
Not of the spirit's task alone,
But kin in laughter of the blood:
Where Paris glitters in the sun,
A second home, like boys, we find,
And leave our grown-up cares behind.

SATAN: 1920

I read there is a man who sits apart,
A sort of human spider in his den,
Who meditates upon a fearful art--
The swiftest way to slay his fellow men.
Behind a mask of glass he dreams his hell:
With chemic skill, to pack so fierce a dust
Within the thunderbolt of one small shell--
Sating in vivid thought his shuddering lust--
Whole cities in one gasp of flame shall die,
Swept with an all-obliterating rain
Of sudden fire and poison from the sky;
Nothing that breathes be left to breathe again--
And only gloating eyes from out the air
Watching the twisting fires, and ears attent
For children's cries and woman's shrill despair,
The crash of shrines and towers in ruin rent.

High in the sun the sneering airmen glide,
Glance at wrist-watches: scarce a minute gone
And London, Paris, or New York has died!
Scarce twice they look, then turn and hurry on.
And, far away, one in his quiet room
Dreams of a fiercer dust, a deadlier fume:
The wireless crackles him, "Complete success";
"Next time," he smiles, "in half a minute less!"
To this the climbing brain has won at last--
A nation's life gone like a shrivelled scroll--
And thus To-Day outstrips the dotard Past!
I envy not that man his devil's soul.

UNDER WHICH KING . . . ?

The fight I loved--the good old fight--
Was clear as day 'twixt Might and Right;
Satrap and slave on either hand,
Tiller and tyrant of the land;
One delved the earth the other trod,
The writhing worm, the thundering god.
Lords of an earth they deemed their own,
The tyrants laughed from throne to throne,
Scattered the gold and spilled the wine,
And deemed their foolish dust divine;
While, 'neath their heel, sublimely strove
The martyred hosts of Human Love.

Such was the fight I dreamed of old
'Tw