HE FELL AMONG THIEVES II

He flung his empty revolver down the slope, He climbed alone to the eastward edge of the trees;

All night long in a dream untroubled of hope

He brooded, clasping his knees.

He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills

The ravine where the Yassîn river

sullenly flows;

He did not see the starlight on the Laspur

hills,

Or the far Afghan snows.

He saw the April noon on his books aglow, The wistaria trailing in at the window

wide;

He heard his father's voice from the ter

race below

Calling him down to ride.

He saw the gray little church across the park,

The mounds that hide the loved and

honoured dead;

The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark, The brasses black and red.

He saw the School Close, sunny and green, The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall,

The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between,

His own name over all.

He saw the dark wainscot and timbered

roof,

The long tables, and the faces merry and

keen;

The College Eight and their trainer dining

aloof,

The Dons on the daïs serene.

HE FELL AMONG THIEVES 13

He watched the liner's stem ploughing the foam,

He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw ;

He heard her passengers' voices talking of home,

He saw the flag she flew.

And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet,

And strode to his ruined camp below the

wood;

He drank the breath of the morning cool

and sweet;

His murderers round him stood.

Light on the Laspur hills was broadening

fast,

The blood-red snow-peaks chilled to

a dazzling white;

He turned, and saw the golden circle at last,

Cut by the eastern height.

"O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth. and sun,

I have lived, I praise and adore Thee."

A sword swept.

Over the pass the voices one by one

Faded, and the hill slept.

THE SCHOOL AT WAR

ALL night before the brink of death

In fitful sleep the army lay,

For through the dream that stilled their breath

Too gauntly glared the coming day.

But we, within whose blood there leaps
The fullness of a life as wide

As Avon's water where he sweeps

Seaward at last with Severn's tide,

We heard beyond the desert night

The murmur of the fields we knew, And our swift souls with one delight Like homing swallows northward flew.