A Treasury of War Poetry: British and American Poems of the World War 1914-1917. Various

Where those dim lilacs wave.

       He bends his head to bless, as dreams come true,

       The promise of that grave;

       Then, with a vaster hope than thought can scan,

       Touching his ancient sword,

       Prays for that mightier realm of God in man:

       "Hasten thy kingdom, Lord.

      "Land of our hope, land of the singing stars,

       Type of the world to be,

       The vision of a world set free from wars

       Takes life, takes form from thee;

       Where all the jarring nations of this earth,

       Beneath the all-blessing sun,

       Bring the new music of mankind to birth,

       And make the whole world one."

      And those old comrades rise around him there,

       Old foemen, side by side,

       With eyes like stars upon the brave night air,

       And young as when they died,

       To hear your bells, O beautiful Princeton towers,

       Ring for the world's release.

       They see you piercing like gray swords through flowers,

       And smile, from souls at peace.

       Alfred Noyes

THE VIGIL

       Table of Contents

      England! where the sacred flame

       Burns before the inmost shrine,

       Where the lips that love thy name

       Consecrate their hopes and thine,

       Where the banners of thy dead

       Weave their shadows overhead,

       Watch beside thine arms to-night,

       Pray that God defend the Right.

      Think that when to-morrow comes

       War shall claim command of all,

       Thou must hear the roll of drums,

       Thou must hear the trumpet's call.

       Now, before thy silence ruth,

       Commune with the voice of truth;

       England! on thy knees to-night

       Pray that God defend the Right.

      Single-hearted, unafraid,

       Hither all thy heroes came,

       On this altar's steps were laid

       Gordon's life and Outram's fame.

       England! if thy will be yet

       By their great example set,

       Here beside thine arms to-night

       Pray that God defend the Right.

      So shalt thou when morning comes

       Rise to conquer or to fall,

       Joyful hear the rolling drums,

       Joyful tear the trumpets call,

       Then let Memory tell thy heart:

       "England! what thou wert, thou art!"

       Gird thee with thine ancient might,

       Forth! and God defend the Right!

       Henry Newbolt