Thaddeus A. Browne

“ Betrays mankind, and tarnishes thy soul.
IRELAND
Harp of my country, I tune thee with gladness,
Now thy wild song all my being o'erfills,
Lifting my soul from its memories of sadness,
Flooding with joy as it vibrates and thrills.
Fame's on the wing and death's in the valleys,
War's on the world and Freedom's the prize,
Who, with head high, marches on with the Allies,
Ireland, 'tis she, with her glorified eyes. ”

“ He can fight, and he is happy,
When he's charging on the foe.
You would think he was in Paris listening to some sweet refrain,
Or dining with the petite femmes along the river Seine,
Instead of facing Prussian steel and charging through the fray.
Then here's to you, gallant Poilu, with you're heart so light and gay.
Comrade Poilu over there,
Fighting to your latest breath,
With a smile so debonair
In the blazing face of death,
You have won undying glory, to your country you've been true,
And the whole wide world salutes you and drinks a toast to you. ”

“ As towers the mountain o'er the valleys wide,
So lifts the pillar of the patriot's pride;
And 'neath the shadow of the Conflict stern,
Still brightly may the Christmas hearth-fire burn.
Our greatest and our humblest all are one.
To each, one privilege, one gift is given:
The love of Country—then from sire to son
Preserve our heritage, as our sires have striven.
The past is glorious: the future sure,
If we but labour, and with love endure. ”

“ Since flaming down through Belgium, that September,
The Prussian hell-hounds, baying, sought Calais.
There Ypres and St. Julien, shining glorious,
Red Courcelette and Vimy's Ridge aglow,
And many another unsung fight, victorious,
Wherein you clove a pathway through the foe.
You have returned with memories unfading,
Of prodigies performed in Freedom's name,
Of charging hosts and volley's enfilading,
And roaring craters curtained with death's flame.
Some come not back; in lands afar they're sleeping.
Who dies for Freedom fills no nameless grave ”

“ The Aviators of the Allies go.
Theirs is the flight of eagles, and as they,
They swoop and drive their talons in the foe,
Then wheeling, strike again their crippled prey,
And send him crashing to the earth below.
HELL'S ACOLYTE
O'er a city Saturnalian, when the feast was at its height,
Cried the demon of the riot, riding on the howling night.
Cried aloud in gleeful frenzy, "Who would wish to be divine,
When as fiend he reigns the master of unnumbered slaves of wine?" ”

“ Mothering a hundred races, guarding 'neath her flag unfurled.
Steadfast in her mighty mission, seeking for the greater good,
Hampered often in her labour, often too misunderstood.
Giving of her wealth and wisdom, giving birth to nations new,
Giant sons who name her mother, mighty offspring to her true.
They who sentinel the vastness of an empire's broad domain,
Greater than the Macedonians, mightier than Rome or Spain,
Never empire such as Britain's, never one with fewer stains,
Far extended, many millioned, mantling mountains, seas, and plains. ”

“ Seen thy chivalry in squadrons fall in internecine strife,
And the regal Stuart yielding on the block a royal life,
Heard the conflict fierce of battle, heard the raging of old wars,
Seen the victor lift the vanquished and in peace forget their scars.
And by slow regeneration from the things that did degrade,
Rise upon a new foundation a fair nation nobly made,
In her hand the touch of freedom, in her soul the newer birth,
Bent upon the nobler mission, Peace, good-will, to men of earth. ”

“ Weighted and straining like racers waiting the turn of the tide,
Legions of peaceful invaders, bearing no weapons that slay,
Eager, expectant, and joyful, entering under my sway.
"Behold an edifice building out of the wealth of the Earth
By the Sons that I have nurtured, by men of different birth;
Building in love and in labour by men who are undismayed
By the storm and stress of seasons, undaunted and unafraid. ”

“ Wanton of the wine-glass, weaving dreams with mirages bedight.
O'er the wastes of wine I lure men, till on sands of quenchless thirst,
Lo, my red simoom engulfs them, helpless, raving, and accurst!
"Ere the sun-god, swiftly rising, swings his flaming sword of day,
Gin-gowned for the assignation, wait I for my quivering prey,—
Wait I for my faithful lovers, they who crave my morning kiss,
Abject, pleading for my favour, for my warmth, reviving bliss. ”

“ They sleep 'neath a sod where no shamrocks are growing,
Afar from Hibernia, their dear, beloved isle;
But if you remember, perchance, there's no knowing,
They may wake from their sleep for a moment and smile.
And may the tale of their love and devotion
Touch the heart lying deep in Britain's broad breast,
And may happiness dawn o'er that isle of the ocean
That gave to the Empire the sons she loved best. ”

“ Where rests beneath the temple, nobly arched,
The form a worldwide people held most dear.
The sombre pageant darkens all the land.
The seven Kings in mournful grandeur ride,
Kings of the earth must bow to death's command;
Happy the Prince who heeds nor builds on pride!
Happy the land, that in such mournful hour
Can through the tears of parting proudly say,
As we, he wrought each instrument of power
For good, and o'er his people's hearts held sway. ”

“ Sweeping stately, thousand bannered, on and on the pageant goes.
Onward to the culmination of the long day's fevered strain,
To the happy culmination with its hope of joyful reign,
To the solemn coronation 'neath Westminster's wondrous pile,
Treasure house of Britain's glory, loveliest heirloom of her Isle.
Sepulchre sublime and mossy; Brooder old what dreams are thine,
Thou who blessed our monarch's forebears since the
great Confessor's time,
Thou who holds the dust of princes in thy motherly embrace,
Who serene through years of tumult watched upgrow a mighty race. ”

“ Lo, 'tis the vision of greatness, prophetic, soul-stirring, grand,
All that I dreamed, Master Builder, all that you hoped for or planned.
"Beaches that billow and beckon, pregnant with bounty and life,
Vistas of life giving plenty, foreign to clamour and strife,
Cities that spring as by magic, fair, full of promise, they mould,
Rising in splendour and beauty, proud in their settings of gold. ”

“ The dying hands of children grip my heart;
From vale and upland, and the thronging mart,
There is no laughter where they used to play;
They cry unmothered, starved, with faces gray.
If this be not a hell 'neath devil's sway,
For all my little ones, shall Prussia pay! ”

“ But a Father omnipresent, taking care of all mankind;
And the Deity they worship, and the God to whom they pray,
Never slaughtered His poor children in the way some chapters say.
Have you seen the sunlight gleaming on a summer day in June,
Spreading broadcast texts of glory, while the birds hozannas tune?
How it floods the heart with gladness, and what charity it brings,
'Till all hate melts to forgiveness in the greater good of things. ”

“ Manhood and womanhood greeting, giving a welcome full sweet,
There 'neath the sunlight of heaven, there midst the ripening wheat.
Into the West went the Seeker drawn by the Voice of the Soul,
Vigilant into the vastness speeding from goal unto goal,
Preaching the Gospel of Union, seeking the end that all creeds
Might on the altar of freedom sacrifice give of fair deeds. ”

“ Forward in Freedom's name
We shall advance.
Until the menace dies,
Until it stricken lies
Under our lance.
Though death be our repose,
Live Shamrock, Thistle, Rose,
Lillies of France!
GIVE! GIVE! GIVE!
AUGUST, 1914
Citizens, your kind attention:
I desire here to mention
We are sending thirty thousand of our bravest to the war.
And they leave those to them nearest,
All they love, all they hold dearest—
Mothers, wives, and little children who must be provided for.
Then let's Give! Give! Give! ”

“ Stone on stone they laid and set me, tier on tier my structure rose,
On the plateau by the river, sweeping seaward as it flows.
They have hewn me to being, they have shaped with skilful hands,
And the chateau on the plateau o'er the river proudly stands,
Deemed a miracle of beauty, classic, stately, and refined,
Reared as fitting habitation for the leaders of mankind. ”

“ A temple where all may worship, a temple where all may kneel.
"The granite, the hearts undaunted, the oak and the gold fair deeds;
The steel and the iron, girders binding the different creeds,
The floors are the throbbing heart beats of men who love my sod
And the dome, the love of country and abiding faith in God."
High beat the heart of the Seeker, deeply his being was stirred;
"Soul of the Westland," he answered, "I came, I have seen,
I have heard,
While life shall beat in my bosom, while love shall throb
in my breast,
Labour will I for the Eastland, labour will I for the West ”

“ Like a maiden in her beauty reign I 'midst my servile train.
"Ne'er was queen of story olden wooed as I by mortal man;
Ne'er had king in ages golden court so cosmopolitan;
Not for wealth of my surroundings do they tribute to me pay,
For they love me all as faithful in dim dens where I hold sway.
"What a court is this, my master! Here I watch life's strange parade—
Here I view the grotesque pageant of mankind in masquerade—
Maskers from the grimy army tipple with the titled peer;
Every walk of life commingling, great and lowly, all are here. ”

“ A true companion that has blessed mankind,
'Twill solace bring of peace to heart and mind.
'Tis hewed from wood of purest briar strain,
'Tis earthborn, nursed by sunshine, wind, and rain;
'Tis forest bred, a child of solitude,
And thus to lonely hearts 'tis drink and food. ”

“ Sire, we thy sons salute thee from thy empire's utmost end;
This galaxy, thy free nations, to thee heartfelt greetings send;
May thy reign be long and fruitful 'neath the King of Kings above,
Olden empires bound by bondage, thine is bound by chains of love. ”

“ Sons of the Plains of the Obi and deserts of Jeti Kenoor,
Children of darkness and peril seeking the bounty I give,
Craving the right but to labour, craving the boon but to live.
"Sons of the Vede and the Danube, Wards of the Tara and Rhone,
These have I nourished and nurtured, these have I loved as my own;
Cheering them on when they wavered with visions of greatness to be,
When cities would gladden my prairie and spires rear by the sea. ”

“ Where sunshine greets them with its morning kiss,
And wakes them to a new day's perfect bliss.
'Tis o'er, thy dream; his ways and thine divide,
The sterile plains of memory grow more wide;
Love claims its own, and thou must pay the cost—
A dark-orbed maid has won what thou hast lost. ”

“ Sing, troubadour, let thy song soar, sing with a voice divine
Of how they saved the day and braved the despot of the Rhine.
"SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE" Oh, everywhere the women wait for men "somewhere in France";
They wait the postman's passing step, they watch with eager glance;
They watch and wait to know their fate, with anxious hearts in pain,
The seas are wide and, woe betide, they may not come again. ”

“ I have triumphed, I, thy fiend of drink," he cried.
"Master thou whose cause I cherish, Master thou who reign'st in hell,
Am I worthy of thy kinship? In thy cause have I done well?
"Fiend of drink am I, remorseless, ruling, worshipped everywhere—
Boon companion of the novice, prop of every wreck's despair.
Moods have I to meet the many, costumes fit for any state,
To the brutalized or polished I can be a fitting mate.
"Where patrician faces gather, clothed am I in bright champagne,
Sparkling gloriously golden, beading to an amorous strain.
Eyes grow bright as lips caress me ”

“ Chats, a waterfall on the Ottawa, pronounced as Shaw.
MONSIEUR POILU
You'd say that he was plucky,
If you saw him in a trench.
It matters not how mucky
You'd know that he was French.
Monsieur Poilu, gay and eager in his tattered, war-stained coat,
Sniping Germans as a pastime with the laughter in his throat.
Here's looking at you, Poilu, dashing son of gallant France,
You're a gentleman and soldier and you take a fighting chance. ”

“ Where Julien's wood in moonlight stood when midnight met the morn.
Tell how they died, my brave, my pride, on that field battle torn.
They went not forth for gain or gold, 'twas not for such they died.
They fought for right 'gainst armed might that covenants defied.
Pure was their quest, to serve the best, their banner they unfurled
For that high plan, the rights of man, the freedom of the world. ”

“ While my poison, slowly filtering, stains the fonts of purity,
And they sink by man polluted, tainted to obscurity.
"I am Drink, the fiend remorseless, all that's mortal is my prey;
These mad lovers 'neath me reeling are my playthings of to-day.
Each to-morrow brings new victims, each to-day a grave I fill;
He who loves me truest, fondest, with a demon's joy I kill."
So hell's acolyte satanic, where the tinkling glasses gleamed,
Told the story of his triumphs to that other Master Fiend ”

“ And the rain like benediction and the sunshine glad and bright,
Fills them with a hope unbounded and a faith that all is right.
Through vicissitude and conflict, as this old world wheels and turns,
Ever searching, tearful, calling, man for his Creator yearns ”