Camouflage is all the rage. Ladies in their fight with age— Soldiers in their fight with foes— Demagogues who mask and pose In the guise of statesmen—girls Black of eyes with golden curls— Politicians, votes in mind, Smiling, affable and kind, All use camouflage to-day. As you go upon your way, Walk with caution, move with care; Camouflage is everywhere! THE AWAKENING I said, ‘I will place my heart, my heart all broken, Beside the world’s torn heart, that it may know The comradeship of sorrow that is not spoken, But is carried on wings of all the winds that blow. I will go homeless into homes of grieving, And find my own grief easier to be borne.’ So over menacing seas I went, believing Where all was mourning, I would cease to mourn. And now I am here, close to the great world-sorrow, Here where each heart some mighty grief has known; But from each suffering soul I seem to borrow A poignant pain that but augments my own. The earth is like one vast tempestuous ocean, Where struggling beings fight for light and breath: I feel their anguish, feel each keen emotion— Yet through it all, _I know there is no death_. And as we toss on billows red with slaughter, Unto each tortured, anguished soul I cry, ‘There are green lands beyond this raging water, We shall come into harbour by and by. Our dead dwell near, life is a thing eternal: And I have talked with One from that fair shore. We are but passing through a dream infernal; We shall awake, we shall be glad once more.’ THE KHAKI BOYS WHO WERE NOT AT THE FRONT Oh! it is not just the men who face the guns, Not the fighters at the Front alone, to-day Who will bring the longed-for close to the bloody fray, for those Could not carry on that fray without the ones Who are working at war’s problems far away. You are _all_ our splendid heroes in the strife, And we class you with the warriors maimed and scarred, Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear, While you laboured in the dull routine of life In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred. You have offered up yourselves to save the world; You have felt the abnegation of the Christ: And whatever work you do is a noble work and true; Though it be not done with banners all unfurled, You will find it has, in sight of God, sufficed. While you carry back no medals when you go, Not without you had the fighters borne war’s brunt: So just lift your heads uncowed, for your country will be proud And its lasting love and honour will bestow On the khaki boys who were not at the Front. TIME’S HYMN OF HATE _Oh_, _boastful_, _wicked land_, _that once was beautiful and great_, _How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate_, _While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate_!