Page:A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919.djvu/208

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Squarely he turned about and saw laid bare

The record where

The tale of his long years was plainly writ:

The schooldays shaped by narrow pedagogues,

The ruddy flares of crackling Christmas logs,

Moments of grit

When he had rounded rocks and raced the tide

Shoreward again; had felt the hot sand slide

Beneath his feet where lucent shallows broke

And stayed his stroke.

Transcendent moments when an artist sang

A song of rapture welling from the heart,

A song of bitterness when no tears start;

When rafters rang

To trumpet-calls; when a great organ filled

The nave and mellowed dome and flute-tones thrilled

The sanctuary;

When a great orator ruffled the sea

Of human passion; when the morning flood

Stirred his young blood

And the great Alpine peaks seemed like to pierce

The fragile curtains of his eyes, so fierce

The instancy

Of their white mantle 'gainst the azure sky.

The light of revelation lit the page,

Yet with dull rage

He heard the bitter verdict of his soul:

Down the long gamut of occasions great,

Through lack of valour or edict of fate,

To him the rôle

Of onlooker had fall'n. The years had flown

And left the lonely critic to bemoan

The hollow halls of ease and competence,

The barrier-fence

Raised high against the arena and the fray.

His cheek burned as the vision of the day

When he had lost the woman newly-won

Blurred the bright sun,