Page:Soldier poets, songs of the fighting men, 1916.djvu/69

 THE HON. EVAN MORGAN

What of the Dead?

F in the repose of an arbour

Under a western sky

One dreams of a vast eternal

And one questions the reason why;

Why joy should dissolve into sorrow,

Why pearls should melt in the wine,

And whether the new dawning morrow

Will reckon the close of our time?

If in the repose of the arbour

One gazes on nature around,

Is there some definite answer

In the earth or the sky to be found?

Are we the pawns of a Jevah

That move on a cross-chequered board?

Propelled from the back by a lever,

Controlled, supervised by a Lord?

Given a pen as a plaything

To scribble out poems and plays—

Works that we worship with reverence,

The blossoms of earlier days—

Given a spirit of reason,

Given a mind to attend, 65