Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/107

''William Down Lighthall Then lo! with reverence and pride we saw The knights of old appear,—Sir Galahads, None purer, none more brave. They had been known Till then but as the schoolboys of the camps, Carefree and merry, warming elder blood By pranks of diving, reckless climbing feats Up sheerest precipices. Trackless wilds Knew them as tenters. The shy beaver heard Their paddles unafraid. Widely they ranged The peaks and dales uncharted, seeking risks For love of danger and the jest with Death. Skilled by adventure in a score of arts Their strength they stinted not to all that asked. Pleasant they were to look on, clean their speech And honest-eyed the cheerful countenance.

Ewitchi claimed them. His enchantments fell Upon them in his woods and ridges wild; He loved and sent them dreams, asleep, awake, And spun light threads to reach them o'er the world; All his rare beauty was their heritage, And in their hearts he left his mystic call.

Yesterday they were children. Scarcely yet Knew we they needed less our tender care, Until some grave look or some manly deed Warned us the soul was ripe. We pondered then.

So came the world's great need and Honour's call, And silent, modest, up they rose to serve,— Then in our wonder we beheld them men And saw the Knights of Arthur's Table stand Before us in their sacred panoply. Little they said and naught delayed their going, Farewells to launch, canoe, fair lake and range, A tender word to mother, and forth they fared, As thousands like them fared from lake and stream,