Reality 55 “We Poets of the Proud Old Lineage” 56 III _Miscellaneous Poems_ Song 59 The Shadow 60 Everychild 62 Child of the Flowing Tide 64 Eight Sonnets 66 Keats 74 Meeting Her in the Street 75 Her Homage 76 Reaction 77 April 78 May-June 79 The Strolling Singer 80 The French Mother to Her Unborn Child 87 My thanks are due to the editors of the _Nineteenth Century_, _Cornhill Magazine_, _Observer_, _New Statesman_, and _Westminster Gazette_, for permission to reprint certain of these poems. I THE DARDANELLES FROM “W” BEACH The Isle of Imbros, set in turquoise blue, Lies to the westward; on the eastern side The purple hills of Asia fade from view, And rolling battleships at anchor ride. White flocks of cloud float by, the sunset glows, And dipping gulls fleck a slow-waking sea, Where dim steel-shadowed forms with foaming bows Wind up the Narrows towards Gallipoli. No colour breaks this tongue of barren land Save where a group of huddled tents gleams white; Before me ugly shapes like spectres stand, And wooden crosses cleave the waning light. Celestial gardeners speed the hurrying day And sow the plains of night with silver grain; So shall this transient havoc fade away And the proud cape be beautiful again. Laden with figs and olives, or a freight Of purple grapes, tanned singing men shall row, Chanting wild songs of how Eternal Fate Withstood that fierce invasion long ago. A PRAYER Lord, keep him near to me: Revive his image, let my darkening sight Renew his life by death intensified (His beating life so pitifully tried) That we may face the night And shade the agony. We pray in barren stress Where stricken men await the shrill alarm And nightly watch, in silent order set, The beckoning stars enshrine the parapet. Lord, keep his soul from harm And grant him happiness.