Edward Shanks

“ Of well-caressing hands. O were we wise
We would not love too strongly, would not bind
Life into life so inextricably,
That the dumb body suffers with the mind
In a sad partnership this agony.
For death will come and swallow up us two,
You there, I here, and we shall lie apart,
Out of the houses and the woods we knew.
Then in the lonely grave, my dust-choked heart
Out of the dust will raise, if it can speak,
A threnody for this lost, lovely week.
III.
Is there no prophylactic against love?
Can I with drugs not dull the ache one night? ”

“ Men that have marched with me and men that I have led
Shall know and feel the things that I have only read,
Shall know what thing it is to sleep beneath the skies
And to expect their death what time the sun shall rise.
Men that have marched with me shall march to peace again,
Bringing for plunder home glad memories of pain,
Of toils endured and done, of terrors quite brought under,
And all the world shall be their plaything and their wonder. ”

“ The grey clouds flecked with orange are and gold,
Birds unto rest are falling, falling, falling,
And all the earth goes slowly into night,
Steadily turning from the harshly bright
Sunset. And now the wind is growing cold
And in my heart a hidden voice is calling. ”

“ And clean sweet grass and tangled traceries
Of whispering leaves, that laugh to see us come,
And there one day ... one day shall be our home.
The day will come. O dearest, do not doubt!
It is not born as yet but I shall see
Some day the fearless sunrise flashing out
And know the night will give you up to me.
O heart, my heart, be glad,
Because the time will come at last when we
Shall leave all grief and unlearn all things sad
And know the joy than which none sweeter is
And I shall sing a happier song than this.
Sonnets on Separation. ”

“ Wherein my heart could be as glad as this
And lazily I'd bid all men come hither
And in my dreams I'd tell them what they miss,
Living in hate and work and all foul weather.
And still my happy dreams would go,
Like children in a cowslip field
Chasing rich-winged insects to and fro
To see what rare delights they yield....
... O I am tired of working to be cheated
And sick of barriers that will not fall,
Of ancient prudent words too much repeated
And worn-out dreams that come not true at all.
I know too well what things they are that ail me ”

“ The ripe fruit smiling hang. The afternoon
Is emptied of all things done and things to be.
Low in the sky the inconspicuous moon
Stares enviously upon the mellow earth,
That mocks her barren girth. ”

“ Sing a song to cheer him up, he wants his dinner too.
March into the dining-hall, make the tables rattle
Like a dozen dam' machine guns in the bloody battle,
Use your forks for drum-sticks, use your plates for drums,
Make a most infernal clatter, here the dinner comes!
VI. ON TREK
Under a grey dawn, timidly breaking,
Through the little village the men are waking,
Easing their stiff limbs and rubbing their eyes;
From my misted window I watch the sun rise.
In the middle of the village a fountain stands,
Round it the men sit, washing their red hands. ”

“ Fourth Thousand
"Mr Masefield is no common realist, but universalises his tragedy in the grand manner.... We are convinced that he is writing truly of human nature, which is the vital thing.... The last few stanzas show us pastoral poetry in the very perfection of simplicity."—Spectator.
"In 'The Widow in the Bye Street' all Mr Masefield's passionate love of loveliness is utterly fused with the violent and unlovely story, which glows with an inner harmony. The poem, it is true, ends on a note of idyllism which recalls Theocritus ”

“ Visited and made ripe beneath kind skies.
Light and delight are in the children's eyes
And there the mothers sit, the fortunate ones,
Blest in their daughters, happy in their sons,
And the old men are beautiful and wise. ”

“ Slowly the light grows, we call the roll over,
Bring the laggards stumbling from their warm cover,
Slowly the company gathers all together
And the men and the officer look shyly at the weather.
By the left, quick march! Off the column goes.
All through the village all the windows unclose:
At every window stands a child, early waking,
To see what road the company is taking. ”

“ Thrusts up her hands and turns into a tree.
There is an end of dance and mocking tune,
Of laughter and bright love among the leaves.
The sky is overcast, the afternoon
Is dull and heavy for a god who grieves.
The woods are quiet and the oak-tree soon
The ruffled dryad in her trunk receives.
Cold grow the sunburnt bodies and the white:
The nymphs and fauns will lie alone to-night.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
Ode on Beauty. ”

“ And your shock head of damp, unwholesome hay,
Such as, the cunning farmer oft declares,
When stacked, will perish by spontaneous fire,
Frequents my dreams and makes them ludicrous.
Thou most ridiculous sprite! Thou ponderous fairy! ”

“ These sonnets are personal—never were sonnets more personal since Sidney died—and yet the very blood and youth of England seem to find expression in them. They speak not for one heart only, but for all to whom her call has come in the hour of need and found instantly ready."—Times. ”

“ THE TWO BLIND COUNTRIES. By ROSE MACAULAY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. net.
"Out of familiar things she contrives to draw a magic which sets all our definitions tottering.... This specific gift is so rare in modern poetry that we may well hail it with enthusiasm."—Spectator.
SELECTED POEMS. By LAURENCE HOUSMAN. F'cap. 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.
"The selections have been made from four previous volumes now out of print: Mendicant Rhymes, The Little Land, Rue, and Spikenard. There is hardly a stanza that is not felicitous in some way, and not one selection that could be spared."—Morning Post. ”

“ A selection of contemporary poetry made by the English Association and intended for the use of higher forms in secondary schools. It contains nearly 150 poems, representative of the chief tendencies of English poetry during the last quarter of a century, written by 47 authors, including Meredith, Stevenson, Kipling, Newbolt, Masefield, Bridges, Yeats, Thompson, Davidson, Watson, Belloc, Chesterton, Gosse, "A.E.," Binyon, Noyes, Flecker, and Rupert Brooke.
"The great merit of the selection is that the pieces are all genuine ”

“ Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net; wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.
"In this Roman tragedy, while we admire its closely knit structure, dramatic effectiveness, and atmosphere of reality ... the warmth and colour of the diction are the most notable things.... He knows the art of phrasing; he has the instinct for and by them."—Athenæum.
RUPERT BROOKE
POEMS.
(First issued in 1911.) Crown 8vo, 2s. 6d. net. Ninth Impression
"Unlike most youthful work it shows a curious absence of imitation and a strenuous originality ... there is much that is uncommonly good. ”