Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/171

 Rh

Making their quarrel thine who are grieved like thee;

And (if to thee the stars yield victory)

Tempering their hate of the great foe that hurled

Vainly her strength against the conscience of the world.

I looked again, or dreamed I looked, and saw

The stars again and all their peace again.

The moving mist had gone, and shining still

The moon went high and pale above the hill.

Not now those lights were trembling in the vast

Ways of the nervy heaven, nor trembled earth:

Profound and calm they gazed as the soft-shod hours passed.

And with less fear (not with less awe,

Remembering, England, all the blood and pain),

How look, I cried, you stern and solitary stars

On these disastrous wars! John Freeman August, 1914.

NAPOLEON