R. C. Lehmann

“ If you went and worried the whole world through You'd never discover a bluer blue; I doubt if you'd find a blue so true In the coats and scarves of a Cambridge crew. And his hair Is as fair As a pretty girl's, But it's right for a boy with its crisp, short curls All a-gleam, as he struts about With a laugh and a shout, To summon his sister-slaves to him For his joyous Majesty's careless whim. But now, as, after a stand, he budges, And sets to work and solemnly trudges, Out from a bush there springs full tilt His four-legged playmate—and John is spilt. ”

“ From lawn to lawn, from path to path pursue The well-loved form that still escapes your view. At every tree some happy memories rise To stir your tail and animate your eyes, And at each turn, with gathering strength endued, Hope, still frustrated, must be still renewed. How should you rest from your appointed task Till chance restore the happiness you ask, Take from your heart the burden, ease your pain, And grant you to your master's side again, Proud and content if but you could beguile His voice to flatter and his face to smile? ”

“ And now with festal dance and laughter loud Broke in the boyish and intruding crowd; Nor did they fail, Seeing that all the painful throng was sped, To let high mirth prevail, And raise the song of joy for EUCLID dead.
TO POSTUMOUS IN OCTOBER When you and I were younger the world was passing fair; Our days were sped with laughter, our steps were free as air; Life lightly lured us onward, and ceased not to unroll In endless shining vistas a playground for the soul. But now no glory fires us; we linger in the cold, And both of us are weary, and both are growing old ”

“ For everyone felt assured that he, Whatever the fate of the rest might be, However few of them might survive, Was certainly safe to stay alive, And was probably bound to deal the blow That would shatter the beast and lay him low, And end the days of their dragon-foe. And all the women-folk egged them on: It was "Up with your heart, and at him, John!" Or "Gurth, you'll bring me his ugly head," Or "Lance, my man, when you've struck him dead, When he hasn't a wag in his fearful tail, Carve off and bring me a blue-green scale." ”

“ Swiftly they pass and dull the edge of grief. You too, resigned at last, may school your mind To miss the comrade whom you cannot find, Never forgetting, but as one who feels The world has secrets which no skill reveals. Henceforth, whate'er the ruthless fates may give, You shall be loved and cherished while you live. Reft of your master, little dog forlorn, To one dear mistress you shall now be sworn, And in her queenly service you shall dwell, At rest with one who loved your master well. ”

“ Therefore our grateful hearts go forth to thee, Our British note-provider, brave JOHN BRADBURY!
TEETH-SETTING (1914) When the thunder-shaking German hosts are marching over France— Lo, the glinting of the bayonet and the quiver of the lance!— When a rowdy rampant KAISER, stout and mad and middle-aged, Strips his breast of British Orders just to prove that he's enraged; When with fire and shot and pillage He destroys each town and village; When the world is black with warfare, then there's one thing you must do: Set your teeth like steel, my hearties, and sit tight and see it through. ”

“ When the waves rise high and higher as they toss about together, And the March-winds, loosed and angry, cut your chilly heart in two, Here are eighteen gallant gentlemen who come to face the weather All for valour and for honour and a little bit of blue! Chorus. Oh get hold of it and shove it! It is labour, but you love it; Let your stroke be long and mighty; keep your body on the swing; While your pulses dance a measure Full of pride and full of pleasure. ”

“ As on the lawn with him you roll, He makes your very being droll. Yet how you set to work to flout him, To tease and gnaw and dance about him! You risk the pressure of his paws, Plunge all you are within his jaws, And, swelling to a final rage, With pin-point teeth the fight engage, While he submits his silly size To every insult you devise. ”

“ Not with mere ceremonial words of woe Come we to mourn—you would not have it so; But with our memories stored with joyous fun, Your constant largesse till your life was done, With quips, that flashed through frequent twists and bends, Caught from the common intercourse of friends; And gay allusions gayer for the zest Of one who hurt no friend and spared no jest. What arts were yours that taught you to indite What all men thought, but only you could write! That wrung from gloom itself a fleeting smile; Rippled with laughter but refrained from guile ”

“ But, bother the boy, here comes our John Munching a piece of currant cake, Who says the lance is a broken rake, And the sword with its keen Toledo blade Is a hoe, and the dinted shield a spade, Bent and useless and rusty-red, In the gardener's silly old lean-to shed. And sometimes, too, when the night comes soon With a great magnificent tea-time moon. Through the nursery-window I peep and see My palace lit for a revelry; And I think I shall try to go there instead Of going to sleep in my dull small bed. But who are these In the shade of the trees That creep so slow In a stealthy row? ”

“ Yet, oh ye Powers whose rule is set above These fair abodes that ring the firmament, Spirits of Peace and Happiness and Love, And thou, too, mild-eyed Spirit of Content, Ye will not chide if sometimes in her play The child should start and droop her shining head, Turning in meek surmise Her wistful eyes Back tow'rd the dimness of our mortal day And the loved home from which her soul was sped. ”

“ There's a blacksmith's forge, And in the neat little inn's trim garden The old men, each with his own churchwarden, Bent and grey, but gossipy fellows, Sip their innocent pints of beer, While the anvil-notes ring high and clear To the rushing bass of the mighty bellows. And thence they look on a cheerful scene As the little ones play on the Village Green, Skipping about With laugh and shout As if no Darville could ever squire them, And nothing on earth could tame or tire them. ”

“ For a man may be strong and a man may be young, But he can't put a drag on a Bedmaker's tongue. And, oh, there's a youngster who sits at his ease In the hope, which is vain, that the tongue may run down, With his feet on the grate and a book on his knees, And his cheeks they are smooth and his hair it is brown. Then I sigh myself back to the place where I am From that ramshackle room near the banks of the Cam.
THE LAST STRAW I sing the sofa! It had stood for years, An invitation to benign repose, A foe to all the fretful brood of fears, Bidding the weary eye-lid sink and close. ”

“ Yet sometimes, too, your placid mind Will turn to those you've left behind, And most to one who sheds her tears, The mistress of your later years, Who sheds her tears to summon back Her faithful cat, the white-and-black. ”

“ But at last the flag has fallen and the splendid fight is finished, And the victory is blazoned on the record-roll of Fame. They are spent and worn and broken, but their soul is undiminished; There are winners now and losers, but their glory is the same! ”

“ Who strip the tilth and bare the tree, And make the gardener's face to be Expressive of the words he could, But must not, utter, though he would (For gardeners still, where'er they go, Whate'er they do, in weal or woe, Through every chance of life retain Their ancient Puritanic strain; Tried by the weather they control Each day their angry human soul, And, by the sparrow teased, may tear Their careworn locks, but never swear) . ”

“ We linger here and droop Beneath the heavy burden of our years, And may not, though we envy, give our lives For England and for honour and for right; But still must wear our weary hours away, While he, that happy fighter, in one leap, From imperfection to perfection borne, Breaks through the bonds that bound him to the earth. Now of his failures is a triumph made; His very faults are into virtues turned; And, reft for ever from the haunts of men, He wears immortal honour and is joined With those who fought for England and are dead. ”

“ But, lo, there's a hint of coming rain, So, presto, Robin is back again. He lifts his head and he cocks his eye And waves his hand and prepares to fly— "Good-bye, Robin, good-bye, good-bye!"
THE BIRTHDAY Sweetheart, where all the dancing joys compete Take now your choice; the world is at your feet, All turned into a gay and shining pleasance, And every face has smiles to greet your presence. Treading on air, Yourself you look more fair; And the dear Birthday-elves unseen conspire To flush your cheeks and set your eyes on fire. ”

“ I praise your heart's deep love that shows In songs made up of whimpering cries And in the radiance of your eyes (And if they bulge—forgive the allusion— Are eyes the worse for such protrusion? The smaller eyes are, sure, the blinder, And size makes every kind eye kinder) . Next with affection's look I note The glossy levels of your coat, Where a rich black doth most prevail, Shading to beaver in your tail, And lightly fading as it reaches The tufted things you wear as breeches. The dweller on the cushion purrs No less when Soo-Ti barks and stirs. ”

“ Sure your pulses stirred, And all your being leapt to meet the call Which bade you strike nor spare Where poised in air Murder and ravening flame were hid intent to fall. Alone upon your fearful task you flew, Where in the vault of heaven the high stars swing, Alone and upward, lost to mortal view, Winding about the assassin craft a ring Of fateful motion, till at last you sped Through the far tracts of gloom The bolt of doom, Shattering the dastard foe to earth with all his dead. ”

“ The towers repeat our voices, the grey and ancient Courts Are filled with mirth and movement, and echo to our sports; Then riverward we trudge it, all talking, once again Down all the long unlovely extent of Jesus Lane. One figure leads the others; with frank and boyish mien, Straight back and sturdy shoulders, he lords it o'er the scene; His grip is firm and manly, his cheeks are smooth and red; The tangled curls cling tightly about his jolly head. ”

“ Lo, just as the word to charge rang out, And before they could give their battle shout, On a stony ledge Of the ridge's edge, With its lips curled back and its teeth laid bare, And a hiss that ripped the morning air, With its backbone arched And its tail well starched, With bristling hair and flattened ears, What shape of courage and wrath appears? ”

“ He breasts the waves, he spurns their blows; Then, like a rocket, up he goes, Up, up to where the gusty wind With all its wrath is left behind; Still up he soars and high and high A speck of light that dots the sky. ”

“ Not moved at all by the rush and flurry, The mad tempestuous windy hurry Of the big world tossing in rage and riot, While the village holds to its old-world quiet. There's a family grocer, a family baker, A family butcher and sausage-maker— A butcher, proud of his craft and willing To admit that his business in life is killing, Who parades a heart as soft as his meat's tough— There's a little shop for the sale of sweet stuff ”

“ Oh, it's heavy work is fighting, but our soldiers do it well— Lo, the booming of the batteries, the clatter of the shell!— And it's weary work retiring, but they kept a dauntless front, All our company of heroes who have borne the dreadful brunt. They can meet the foe and beat him, They can scatter and defeat him, For they learnt a steady lesson (and they taught a lesson, too) , Having set their teeth in earnest and sat tight and seen it through. ”

“ And when he has finished his airy fun And all his flights and his swoops are done He will drop to the shore and lend a hand In building a castle of weed and sand. He will cover with flints its frowning face To keep the tide in its proper place, And the waves shall employ their utmost damp art In vain to abolish your moated rampart. And nobody's nurse shall make a fuss, As is far too often the case with us ”

“ For pansies are, I think, the little gleams Of children's visions from a world of dreams, Jewels of innocence and joy and mirth, Alight with laughter as they fall to earth. Below, the ancient guardian, it may hap, The kindly mother, takes them in her lap, Decks them with glowing petals and replaces In the glad air the friendly pansy-faces. ”

“ So, Soo-Ti, I have tried to praise Yourself and all your winning ways, Content if I may guard and please My little dusky Pekinese.
THE BATH Hang garlands on the bathroom door; Let all the passages be spruce; For, lo, the victim comes once more, And, ah, he struggles like the deuce! Bring soaps of many scented sorts; Let girls in pinafores attend, With John, their brother, in his shorts, To wash their dusky little friend. Their little friend, the dusky dog, Short-legged and very obstinate, Faced like a much-offended frog, And fighting hard against his fate. ”

“ So through the changing years may all delight Live in your face and make your being bright. May the good sprites and busy fays befriend you, And cheerful thoughts and innocent defend you; And, far away From this most joyous day, When in the chambers of your mind you see Those who have loved you, then remember me. ”

“ An army might have been sent to raise Enough for a thousand washing days Crowded and crammed together in one day, One vast soap-sudded and wash-tubbed Monday, And, however fast they might wind the winch, The water wouldn't have sunk an inch. ”