Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/245

 John Stuart Thomson

The Hebe blush of life is lost; the smile

Of hope from my dim sight Passes away; the hooded face of Prayer Lingers alone o er Earth s cold shrine awhile.

And thou hast ta en my flowers, conspiring Death!

That Love and I had chosen for our speech : Roses for ardour, with a passioned breath;

Lilies for Love s own soul; and unto each Sweet blossom we had given qualities :

Pansies for innocence, because their eyes Are always open wide ; daisies for grace ; Poppies for that rich ease,

That trust of love, whose only words are sighs ; All thou hast ta en, and veiled too e en Love s face !

So seems it now, tried soul ! But from Death s seed Rise Spring ; translated Love ; a hero s crown ; God s face indeed !

��H

��OUR CANADIAN HERO

E is not dead ! but of that band on high, That host seraphic round the feet of God, Who draw our souls to spurn this earthly sod;

His larger service now breathes forth no sigh;

The Christ, his Lord, he seeth eye to eye. Oh, ye who loved him for the love he gave, Weep, but not always, o er his shell-strewn grave !

The cause grows greater as its martyrs die.

The State is re-born, as each hero lays

His life upon the sacrificial stone. Why rings fair Canada in all men s praise?

Look ! see her rise from blood and bitter moan ! List! God is saying to His Blessed Son: Ypres, and Lens, and Calvary, are one.

�� �