Page:Marlborough and other poems, Sorley, 1919.djvu/37



Hush! I say.

Onward and upward till the day—

Brother, that tree has crimson leaves.

You'll never see its like again.

Don't miss it. Look, it's bright with rain—

O prating tongue. On, on.

And there

A toad-stool, nay, a goblin stool.

No toad sat on a thing so fair.

Wait, while I pluck—and there's—and here's

A whole ring...what?...berries?

O fool!

Fool, fallen in this vale of tears.

His hand had touched the plough: his eyes

Looked back: no more with us, his peers,

He'll climb the hill and front the skies

And see the Star, the King, the Prize. 19