Yet ever 'twixt the books and his bright eyes
The gleaming eagles of the legions came,
And horsemen, charging under phantom skies,
Went thundering past beneath the oriflamme.

And now those waiting dreams are satisfied;
From twilight into spacious dawn he went;
His lance is broken, but he lies content
With that high hour, in which he lived and died.
And falling thus he wants no recompense,
Who found his battle in the last resort;

Nor needs he any hearse to bear him hence,
Who goes to join the men of Agincourt.
HERBERT ASQUITH.
Asquith, THE VOLUNTEER AND OTHER POEMS, Sidgwick & Jackson,
London.

PERSHING AT THE TOMB OF LAFAYETTE

They knew they were fighting our war. As the months grew to years

Their men and their women had watched through their blood and their tears

For a sign that we knew, we who could not have come to be free

Without France, long ago. And at last from the threatening sea

The stars of our strength on the eyes of their weariness

rose,

And he stood among them, the sorrow-strong hero we

chose

To carry our flag to the tomb of that Frenchman whose

name

an of our country could once more pronounce without shame.

at crown of rich words would be set for all times on this day?

past and the future were listening what he would

this, from the white-flaming heart of a passion austere,

this-ah, but France understood! "Lafayette, we are here."

ILVER TRUMPET, Amelia Josephine Burr.

ht 1918, GEORGE H. DORAN Co., Publishers.

(21)

For the Knight who is her King-
Hail-was hail!

Held it, smiling, to her lips,

Eager lips, though pale.

Bend the knee to Belgium,
Drink-drink hail!

See, her cup is all alight,—

She hath found the Grail!

MARION COUTHOUY SMITH.

By permission, Smith, THE FINAL STAR, James T. White Co.

WIRELESS

There sits a little demon
Above the Admiralty,
To take the news of seamen
Seafaring on the sea;
So all the folk aboard-ships
Five hundred miles away
Can pitch it to their Lordships
At any time of day.

The cruisers prowl observant,
Their crackling whispers go;
The demon says, "Your servant,”
And lets their Lordships know;
A fog's come down off Flanders?
A something showed off Wick?
The captains and commanders
Can speak their Lordships quick.

I wonder what Cervera thought
When, from the portals of the sky,
His swift far-ranging vision caught
That host of men afraid to die.
I wonder what Cervera thought,
Of that armada moving there
In strange and sullen safety;-bought
With the one thing he did not dare!

HAROLD TROWBRIDGE PULsifer.

By permission, THE OUTLOOK.

THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED

I went not forth to battle,

I carried friendly men,

The children played about my decks,

The women sang—and then

And then the sun blushed scarlet
And heaven hid its face,

The world that God created
Became a shameful place!

My wrong cries out for vengeance,
The blow that sent me here

Was aimed in Hell. My dying scream

Has reached Jehovah's ear.

Not all the seven oceans

Shall wash away the stain;

Upon a brow that wears a crown

I am the brand of Cain.