THE STANDARD-BEARER

I

"How can I tell," Sir Edward said,

"Who has the right or the wrong o' this thing? Cromwell stands for the people's cause, Charles is crowned by the ancient laws; English meadows are sopping red, Englishmen striking each other dead,

Times are black as a raven's wing.
Out of the ruck and the mirk I see
Only one thing!

The King has trusted his banner to me,
And I must fight for the King."

II

Into the thick of the Edgehill fight

Sir Edward rode with a shout; and the ring Of grim-faced, hard-hitting Parliament men Swallowed him up,-it was one against ten! He fought for the standard with all his might, Never again did he come to sight

Victor, hid by the raven's wing! After the battle had passed we found

Only one thing,—

The hand of Sir Edward gripped around

The banner-staff of his King.

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Henry van Dyke.

THE FORGOTTEN SOUL

"TWAS I that cried against the pane on All Souls' Night

(O pulse of my heart's life, how could you never hear?)

You filled the room I knew with yellow candle-light

And cheered the lass beside you when she cried in fear,

'Twas I that went beside you in the gray woodmist

(O core of my heart's heart, how could you never know?)

You only frowned and shuddered as you bent and kissed

The lass hard by you, handfast, as I used

to go.

'Twas I that stood to greet you on the church

yard pave

(O fire of my heart's grief, how could you never see?)

You smiled in careless dreaming as you crossed

my grave

And hummed a little love-song where

they buried me!

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12

Margaret Widdemer.

THE UNKNOWN BELOVED*

I DREAMED I passed a doorway
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.

What drew me so I know not,
But drawing near I said,
"Kind sir, and can you tell me
Who is it here lies dead?"

Said he, "Your most beloved
Died here this very day,
That had known twenty Aprils
Had she but lived till May."

Astonished I made answer,
"Good sir, how say you so!
Here have I no beloved,

This house I do not know."

Quoth he, "Who from the world's end

Was destined unto thee

Here lies, thy true beloved

Whom thou shalt never see."

"From the author's "Dust and Light," Scribner, 1919.

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I dreamed I passed a doorway

Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding

About a flowery wreath.

John Hall Wheelock.

24

BALLAD OF THREE

UPON the river's brink she stands

And tastes the dawn's white breath. She wrings her slender, silver hands, "God's curse on love," she saith. "Love binds me with his cruel bands That break not save with death."

"Now Geoffrey is a huntsman bold
And slays the mountain deer,
And Hugh plows up the fragrant mold
And plucks the ripened ear.

In friendship would these twain grow old

Did I not dwell anear.

"Hugh brings me grapes with sunlight sweet, Like globes of amethyst,

While Geoffrey's fawn with snowflake feet

Is corded to my wrist.

They mutter curses when they meet,

Their sight dims with red mist.

"And it is love hath done this thing; Yea, Geoffrey loves my hair,

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18

And Hugh lifts up his voice to sing
That my sad face is fair,

And love strews poison in the spring
And fouls the pleasant air.

"But not for my poor loveliness

Shall blood of brothers flow.

What is one woman, more or less?
And what is love but woe!
I want no murderer's caress,
So for love's sake-I go."

Lads, sheathe your knives, no use to fight,

The lady you would wed

Shall sleep alone in state to-night

With candles at her head.

Lift, friends, this figure still and white

And bear her to her bed.

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Joyce Kilmer.

THE RIDE TO THE LADY*

"Now since mine even is come at last,-
For I have been the sport of steel,
And hot life ebbeth from me fast,
And I in saddle roll and reel,-
Come bind me, bind me on my steed!

of fingering leech I have no need!"

"From "A Chant of Love for England and Other Poems," published by E. P. Dutton, New York City.